So little is a stone

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T h a n k   Y o u   F o r   Y o u r   S u p p o r t

Harry Easterling Bridge

Peak, South Carolina

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Letters swallow themselves in seconds.
Notes friends tied to the doorknob,
transparent scarlet paper,
sizzle like moth wings,
marry the air.

So much of any year is flammable,
lists of vegetables, partial poems.
Orange swirling flame of days,
so little is a stone.

Where there was something and suddenly isn’t,
an absence shouts, celebrates, leaves a space.
I begin again with the smallest numbers.

Quick dance, shuffle of losses and leaves,
only the things I didn’t do
crackle after the blazing dies.

= Naomi Shihab Nye =

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Happy Monday

Shall your strength ever be

 

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H u m b l e   E n d i n g s

St. Simons Episcopal Church Ruins

Peak, South Carolina

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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 =

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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

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Happy Sunday

So wings bestow on me

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D a g n y   i n   J a n u a r y

Front Porch

Columbia, South Carolina

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Because the Bee may blameless hum

For Thee a Bee I do become

List even unto Me.

Because the Flowers unafraid

May lift a look on thine, a Maid

Alway a Flower would be.

Nor Robins, Robins need not hide

When Thou upon their Crypts intrude

So Wings bestow on Me

Or Petals, or a Dower of Buzz

That Bee to ride, or Flower of Furze

I that way worship Thee.

= Emily Dickinson =

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Happy Saturday

Dark is a way and light is a place

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L e t   M e   C a l l   Y o u   S t r e e t   A r t

Harry Easterling Bridge :: Palmetto Trail

Peak, South Carolina

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And freely he goes lost

In the unknown, famous light of great

And fabulous, dear God.

Dark is a way and light is a place,

Heaven that never was

Nor will be ever is always true,

And, in that brambled void,

Plenty as blackberries in the woods

The dead grow for His joy.

. . .

I hear the bouncing hills

Grow larked and greener at berry brown

Fall and the dew larks sing

Taller this thunderclap spring, and how

More spanned with angels ride

The mansouled fiery islands! Oh,

Holier then their eyes,

And my shining men no more alone

As I sail out to die.

from Poem on His Birthday

= Dylan Thomas =

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In loving memory of

Stanley Ray Weber

July 28, 1925 - January 8, 2011

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Happy Friday

Weep not that the world changes

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B o a r d   R o o m

Palmetto Trail at the Broad River

Peak, South Carolina

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They talk of short-lived pleasure -- be it so --
Pain dies as quickly: stern, hard-featured pain
Expires, and lets her weary prisoner go.
The fiercest agonies have shortest reign;
And after dreams of horror, comes again
The welcome morning with its rays of peace.
Oblivion, softly wiping out the stain,
Makes the strong secret pangs of shame to cease:
Remorse is virtue’s root; its fair increase
Are fruits of innocence and blessedness:
Thus joy, o’erborne and bound, doth still release
His young limbs from the chains that round him press.
Weep not that the world changes -- did it keep
A stable changeless state, ’twere cause indeed to weep.

= William Cullen Bryant =

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Happy Thursday