
the birds; are they singing the blues?

on Sunday
I woke up to droplets
of rain tap dancing on
my windows.
“God is crying. He is
not pleased with us.”
Made in his image, yet
we destroy everything we
touch.
I would cry, too.
And, I do.
Friday Framing
a haiku
beautiful background
a cold pond untouched today
God’s whispered blessings
the roofers came today–banged
the mess out of tired shingles
and drilled into spaces where
drilling didn’t sound like
it needed to take place
all of this because of a recurring
leak right above my fireplace
the dog slept throughout
the entire crazy show
and I wondered how …
I worked during this–took
call after call after call
and endured a throbbing
headache from the noise
making my acquaintance
when the job was complete,
they collected their ladder,
threw all of the old
pieces of my roof to the
ground, and left without
saying a word
I don’t even know
if the repairs are actually
repaired
I guess I’ll soon find out
this is North Carolina,
after all
rain is definitely
on the way
The imagery alone for this piece made me want to read it again and again.
For bite-sized morsels of creative excellence about nature, life, struggles, growth, and everything in between, Elancharan’s blog is the space for it all.
baby snake imagines itself as a coiled root unearthed and then an autumn twig and finally transforms into a locomotive slowly sliding across the tar into the dark belly of the undergrowth
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