Beautiful rubbish:

I leave home tonight with an old fuzzy blanket tucked under my arm, searching for entrance to a resting place. The meeting place of heav...

  photo credit The week drags and I with it, a balloon beginning out only a third filled, deflating with each passing day. I recall lit...

We got away together this weekend, to a little studio on a little farm on a little island, a rare retreat from home. And I know, in s...

Summer is in full bloom along the lake, where the green grass is an over-baked, brittle yellow and for miles along the shore bodies are...

"...faith is not a fire as much as it's a glow;  a quiet, lovely burning underneath the snow -- ...faith is not a fi...

I swam to the shore yesterday evening to find him waiting barefoot in the water, fixing me with silent piercing eyes. He arrived after ...

A friend asked the other day what brought about my love of birds, and at first, I didn’t know how to answer. I was searching my memory ba...