I'm a writer who writes and creates and talks about God, who observes and listens and loves, who revels in the odd and the ordinary
the sun hangs low, that gorgeous star illuminating my world,
the road, my eyes, the trees. the clouds purple like a bruise
before melting into red orange pink hues, incarnadining every part of me;
the sky ablaze like a giant flame set my soul on fire, and just as fast
as the show began, twilight blue swept across the room before dropping
the black curtain. how fleeting are the colors, how quickly they can be yours
then returned to their owner, how vital it is to learn to let go.
