Peace and Praise

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Conscience Waterer

His giant hands weild an Anvil shaped shovel, While mountainous arms Dig up clods of hardened soil, Like souls without a heart. But then, fingers of a four year old, Calloused, yet they be, Dance among the lilac roots Combing free quarrelsome quack grass Like nasty witch’s tongues. And with a conscious waters well With…

Self Care Multiplied

Lilac tree shoots, Little beauties, unruly, Grew up from the mother’s root. And those little babies Were dug and adopted Once, and twice, and three times more. And they grew in yards a many. The first tender shoots Infused their scents At the start of the woman’s day. And her act of self care In…


Sprinkler’s false rain Leopard spotted the window, And outside, the rich black soil, Like quicksand. So spots remain, Troubling my view Of the poplar jungle outside. And I wonder How I’ve transplanted Myself from single Barren home, to home Filled to brimming By another. Will she mind if I declutter? Will he? And I breathe…

I’m just a magpie who sings like a chickadee.

“It is well, it is well, with my soul. My saviour God calls out to me and it is well, it is well, it is well with my soul.”

Horatio G Spafford