Spiritual Rain


The end of summer
rain soaked my soul
with a spiritual rain.

It was a vibrant rain
that fell straight down
like a comb going

through her long hair.
Years of pain and
suffering washed

away in the downpour.
Peace and joy shone
in the new day sun.

The end of summer
rain soaked my soul
with a spiritual rain.

Both Sides of the Window


Writing fled while life crushed
me from all sides. It was like
trying to hold your breath

under water for six months.
I’m still trying to catch my
breath. Or maybe it was like

trying to skydive without a
parachute and land on your
feet. But the storm has past.

Sun is due any day now.
Winter will leave; writing
will return. So will life.

Looking out a new window.
Different view. New look and
feel. What is it? What is

different? Still cloudy. The
trees are still wet from the
morning rain. I know what

it is. There is a sweet calm.
There is amazing grace on
both sides of the window.

Odds and Ends No. 48


The temperature hit 112° F as I got out
of the car to walk Thunderbird. A few
spaces down, a young man was standing

near his car. He looked like he was in
email or texting mode. He was dressed
in running shorts only. “Adonis lives,”

was my first thought. Stark white.
Perfectly muscular. As I opened the
trunk to get my walking stick, he took

off running up the trail to the first ridge
line. He looked like a Greek statue; not
one body hair! To say that he and I were

opposites is an understatement. Here I
am dressed in black top and shorts, my
belt with stuff hanging all over it, two

water bottles, and a walking stick. He,
on the other hand, ran off with nothing.
Just his phone and shorts; no water!

As I crested the first ridge, no sign of
him. I was only a minute or two behind
him or so I thought. I got to the top of

next ridge which gave me a wider view.
I started to pan the trails visible from
this vantage point. No sign of him.

Fifty-five minutes later I was back in
the parking lot. His car was gone. Wow!
In my car cooling down, I toweled my
head, neck, and arms. Then, on the

drive back home, I started to chuckle.
How did he do that? You and I both
know that Adonis lives in Greek

mythology; not in that parking lot!
I have enough hair on my body for at
least three people! A big knot above

my left knee. My skin is more olive
than white. (Maybe that is why the
Army listed me as “Other.”) Well, it

is a good thing that the Lord loves
me like I am. Adonis, I’m not. I had
a power bar soon after I got home.

I was depleted, needed protein. She
just left for a meeting but I’m now
thinking dinner. I have one frozen

hamburger left. Sounds good. Not
very hungry. Good day. I baked in
the sun and basked in my Father’s

love for me as I am; hair, knots,
and all. Correction: Great day.
Hamburger, sliced pickles, ketchup.

Cheese? Annoying phone alarm.
It is garbage night. Trash out first,
then dinner. And iced tea. Most

might say I saw an ordinary guy;
another my guardian angel. I’ve
never been one to agree with “most.”

Odds and Ends No. 46


Last weekend, I had a headache
so I sautéed two yellow onions
and a half pound of baby

portobello mushrooms. This
became a lovely tomato basil
sauce that lasted until yesterday.

I asked her to pick a pasta from
my assorted pasta cache. Our
pantry annex is on shelves in

the utility room. The pantry in
the kitchen is big enough for
basic stuff like peanut butter,

olive oil, vinegar, cereals, etc.
The things you grab every day.
The overflow in the annex has

paper goods, canned stuff, soups,
rice, pasta, etc. Cookies are out
of sight so they stay out of mind

in my old wooden bookcase with
half glass, half solid creaky
doors. Trips are made from the

big room to the bookcase with
some regularity for a serving of
two cookies. Being the old tech

writer that I am, I enjoyed making
forms for her most of the day. In
Word, which is her preference.

They were fun for me. Boring is
good. Tonight after dinner we
will return to a strange thriller

we started watching yesterday.
I’ve done all the typing I want to
do today; and all the cooking. So,

tonight will be a peanut butter
and jelly for me. Writer and alone
are synonymous for me. But don’t

confuse boring with peace. My
peace comes from a higher source;
peace that I can neither lose nor

explain; writer or not. Some things
are just that way. That, too, is good.
Still early enough for thermos coffee.