And find a resting place

>>>>++<<<<

C l e a n   B r e a k s

Old Dutch Church Burying Ground

Sleepy Hollow, New York

>>>>++<<<<

Is there another world for this frail dust
To warm with life and be itself again?
Something about me daily speaks there must,
And why should instinct nourish hopes in vain?
'Tis nature's prophesy that such will be,
And everything seems struggling to explain
The close sealed volume of its mystery.
Time wandering onward keeps its usual pace
As seeming anxious of eternity,
To meet that calm and find a resting place.
E'en the small violet feels a future power
And waits each year renewing blooms to bring,
And surely man is no inferior flower
To die unworthy of a second spring?

> John Clare <

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Wednesday

Lowly faithful, banish fear

>>>>++<<<<

E d i f i c e

Gay Street

Knoxville, Tennessee

>>>>++<<<<

As the bird trims her to the gale,

I trim myself to the storm of time,

I man the rudder, reef the sail,

Obey the voice at eve obeyed at prime:

"Lowly faithful, banish fear,

Right onward drive unharmed;

The port, well worth the cruise, is near,

And every wave is charmed."

> Ralph Waldo Emerson <

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Tuesday

And stitch, and stitch

>>>>++<<<<

A t   T w i l i g h t   T i m e

Riverfront Park

Columbia, South Carolina

>>>>++<<<<

Great carnal mountains crouching in the cloud
That marrieth the young earth with a ring,
Yet still its thoughts builds heavenward, whence spring
Wee villages of vapor, sunset-proud. --
And to the meanest door hastes one pure-browed
White-fingered star, a little, childish thing,
The busy needle of her light to bring,
And stitch, and stitch, upon the dead day’s shroud.
Poises the sun upon his west, a spark
Superlative, -- and dives beneath the world;
From the day’s fillets Night shakes out her locks;
List! One pure trembling drop of cadence purled --
“Summer!” -- a meek thrush whispers to the dark.
Hark! the cold ripple sneering on the rocks!

> e.e. cummings <

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Monday

We'll stand anew

>>>>++<<<<

W i t h   W i n g s   o f   S t o n e

Chestnut Hill Cemetery

Salisbury, North Carolina

>>>>++<<<<

If I surveyed all the good things

that come to me from above
If I could count all the blessings

from the storehouse of love
I'd simply ask for a favor

of Him beyond mortal ken
And I'm sure that He'd grant it again.

 
I want to stroll over Heaven with you

some glad day
When all our troubles and heartaches

are vanished away.
Then we'll enjoy the beauty

where all things are new
I want to stroll over Heaven with you.

So many places of beauty

we've longed to see here below
But times and treasures have kept us

from making plans as you know
But come the morning of the rapture,

together we'll stand anew
and then I'll stroll over Heaven with you.

We'll renew old acquaintance

and friends we once knew,
then we'll meet all our loved ones

and we'll see Jesus too --
that will be a glad reunion

there will be much to view
when I stroll over Heaven with you

I want to stroll over Heaven with you
some glad day
when all our troubles and heartaches

are vanished away.
Then we'll enjoy the beauty

where all things are new
I want to stroll over Heaven with you.

> Dale Dodson <

>>>>++<<<<

But as it is written, Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard,

neither have entered into the heart of man,

the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.

> I Corinthians 2:9 <

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Sunday

Escape is done

>>>>++<<<<

S u b u r b a n   S h a d o w   P l a y

Out Front

Columbia, South Carolina

>>>>++<<<<

Doom is the House without the Door --

'Tis entered from the Sun --

And then the Ladder's thrown away,

Because Escape -- is done --

'Tis varied by the Dream

Of what they do outside --

Where Squirrels play -- and Berries die --

And Hemlocks -- bow -- to God --

> Emily Dickinson <

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Saturday

All that has been said bravely

>>>>++<<<<

W i t h   T h i s   W i n g

Rose Hill Cemetery

Macon, Georgia

>>>>++<<<<

In the shape of this night, in the still fall
of snow, Father
In all that is cold and tiny, these little birds
and children
In everything that moves tonight, the trolleys
and the lovers, Father
In the great hush of country, in the ugly noise
of our cities
In this deep throw of stars, in those trenches
where the dead are, Father
In all the wide land waiting, and in the liners
out on the black water
In all that has been said bravely, in all that is
mean anywhere in the world, Father
In all that is good and lovely, in every house
where sham and hatred are
In the name of those who wait, in the sound
of angry voices, Father
Before the bells ring, before this little point in time
has rushed us on
Before this clean moment has gone, before this night
turns to face tomorrow, Father
There is this high singing in the air
Forever this sorrowful human face in eternity’s window
And there are other bells that we would ring, Father
Other bells that we would ring.

> Kenneth Patchen <

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Thursday

Beyond the face of fear

>>>>++<<<<

L e a d i n g   E d g e

Taylor Street Alley

Columbia, South Carolina

>>>>++<<<<

may the tide
that is entering even now
the lip of our understanding
carry you out
beyond the face of fear
may you kiss
the wind then turn from it
certain that it will
love your back may you
open your eyes to water
water waving forever
and may you in your innocence
sail through this to that

> Lucille Clifton <

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Wednesday

Various the report

>>>>++<<<<

U p s o t

Eternal Hills Cemetery

Snellville, Georgia

>>>>++<<<<

The sense of the world is short, --
Long and various the report, --
To love and be beloved;
Men and gods have not outlearned it;
And, how oft soe’er they’ve turned it,
’Tis not to be improved.

> Ralph Waldo Emerson <

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Tuesday

Stuff of the imagined thing

>>>>++<<<<

B r a n c h   D r e s s i n g

Winter's Day

Batesburg, South Carolina

>>>>++<<<<

Fortunate those who fill their hands
with stuff of the imagined thing
to shape the cup, the carven bird;
whose fingers strike from key or string
the ringing, single-complex chord,
actual, heard.
A writer's work
is with the insubstantial word,
the image that can only find
its being in another's mind.
We work with water, with the wind,
we make and hold no thing at all.
All we can ever shape or sing
the tremor of an untouched string,
a shift of shadows on the wall.

> Ursula Le Guin <

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Monday

I'll never forsake

>>>>++<<<<

H u m b l e   E n d i n g s

St. Simons Episcopal Church Ruins

Peak, South Carolina

>>>>++<<<<

How firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord

Is laid for your faith in His excellent Word

What more can He say, than to you He hath said

To you who for refuge to Jesus have fled?

In ev'ry condition, in sickness, in health

In poverty's vale, or abounding in wealth

At home and abroad, on the land, on the sea

As your days shall demand, shall your strength ever be.

When through fiery trials thy pathway shall lie

My grace, all sufficient, shall be thy supply

The flame shall not hurt thee; I only design

Thy dross to consume and thy gold to refine.

E'en down to old age, all my people shall prove

My sov'reign, eternal, unchangeable love

And when hoary hairs shall their temples adorn

Like lambs they shall still in My bosom be borne.

The soul that on Jesus hath leaned for repose

I will not, I will not desert to its foes

That soul, though all hell should endeavor to shake

I'll never, no never, no never forsake.

> George Keith <

>>>>++<<<<

And I give unto them eternal life;

and they shall never perish,

neither shall any man pluck them out of my hand.

John 10:28

>>>>++<<<<

Happy Sunday