morning opens softly
like the pale pink lining of a shell
to swell and expel the darkness

the day is just beginning
as all the little fisher-folk
head home to berth and bed

Liz McFadzean

Like a voyeur
in my own home,
I peer from the dimness
of a separate room,
through the French doors,
on my husband
at his morning prayers
bathed in warmth,
an angel observing
from over his shoulder,
a seraph with three wings--
one in each hand
and one under her feet.
The sun streams in from the east,
spotlighting ...

The 20^th century American social critic William Stringfellow identified Advent as the “Penitential Season.”  I think the modern church thinks of Lent, not Advent, as the season of repentance, but mostly modern man ignores the idea of repentance at all.  If, in preparation for Jesus’ first advent, Jo...

The snow falls softly at first,
big thick flakes that melt on impact,
then picking up steam,
blow sideways
and form a shimmery, gossamer veil
that steals the moment
like a half-rate, ham actor
chewing the scenery and upstaging
what is earthy and real,
hiding it under drifts of glistening white

but when the ...

In planning our long cross-country trips, I’ve settled into the sweet spot of about six hours of driving each day.  This allows us to get up for a leisurely breakfast, and takes into account any needed lunch and gas stops, ensuring that our arrival is before dark.  Dave particularly likes to get in ...

In June, when we drove cross-country with our grandson, we purchased a senior pass for the National Park System.  Good for a year from the month of purchase, it has to be one of the best deals around.  It costs $20 for a senior citizen and anyone in the car.  I think after five years of buying passe...

the heavens wail and keen
  throwing cold, wet darts
slickering and slippering
  the snaky mountain roads

but even without sun
  to make them shine
the hilltops give off
  a holy golden glow

the Midas touch, sprinkling
  the slopes with aspen yellow
will not be dulled
  by the day’s deluge 

Liz McFadzean

on the Kansas prairie
  in a distant town
he is startling starlings 
  as the sun goes down

weary from his travels
  and not home yet,
larking after meadowlarks
  until the sun has set

chasing crows and cowbirds,
  wistful over wrens,
unflinching around finches
  as the daylight ends

pacing through plowed...

For the last two summers I have served as the chairperson of the Epworth Historical Society.  Our committee of twelve oversees the Epworth Museum in our historic hotel, built in 1894.  One of the men on this committee is a docent at America’s National Churchill Museum in Fulton, Missouri.  He did a ...

Upon checking out of our hotel in Evansville, we began our trip west in earnest.  I had not planned on stopping again until we needed food or gas, but my navigation app directed us to within a couple of miles of New Harmony, Indiana, the first place where Dave and I did summer theatre together and b...