The wind blows softly.
Never failing, never stopping.
For a moment.
It always continues on.
Moving from one place to another.
Soft as a feather at times it can be.
At times as fierce as dragon's fire.
But never does it stop.
Never does it rest.
But always blows softly.
In some pleasant place.

Maybe there is something
Between you and me
Something that is hidden
That no one eles can see
A picture perfect place
Going deep into our souls
Something right between us
That sometimes we wouldn't even know.

Maybe there was something
Between you and me
And maybe it just left us
Because we couldn't see.

So if one day
There is something
Deep deep in there
Please do not ignore it
Just say a little prayer.

Bring out the mugs.
Find the spoons.
Elves and Dwarves.
Elves and Dwarves!
Bring the chocolate.
Bring the hot chocolate!
Whipped cream!
Flavoring!
Nutmeg! Cinnamon!
Elves and Dwarves.
Elves and Dwarves!
In days of old.
It's been told
That Elves and Dwarves
Didn't get along so well.
I don't know about then.
But now, they do, they do.
As they drink hot chocolate together
They all became friends forever.

I wake up late. 10:24ish. I knew I needed the sleep. And my sister’s not feeling well. And we didn’t feel like setting the alarm. Fun.

I lay (trying to be awake) and go through my To Do list aloud. It’s going to be one of those days…

Branches waving, leaves torn down.
Stretching gnarled limbs to the moon,
Pleadingly, desperately.

Twisted black shapes,
Stark against the autumn sky.
Standing lonely.

Bending in the harsh wind,
Branches flailing,
Creaking and crying.

Birds cling to the forsaken figures,
Seeking refuge in the entwined limbs.
Sighing, hoping.

Skeletons of Summer, clustered together
Bleak branches outstretched
In forlorn begging.

I was lost, and I was panicking.

I was in Germany for a three month stay. I was enjoying my time there. I visited England, France, Norway, Holland, and the Czech Republic. I made a good number of friends in the choir, at youth group, and in the children’s program that I helped with. I used much of my time to work on improving my German. But many of my days were still mundane. I had to find activities to take up my time. On this particular day, I decided to go on a bike ride.

A couple of months ago, I put up my piece “The Legacy of Our Literature,” and while I still feel very strongly concerning the point I made in it, I feel that a clarification of sorts is necessary.

When I wrote that piece, I was viewing the situation from the perspective of a writer. Like any type of artist, I don’t want to see my field deteriorate in quality and substance. However, I have since realized that I neglected to view the topic through a more important perspective, that of a Christian.

"Ah, music. A magic beyond all we do here!"

The smog of the city faded and finally died off completely as my carriage rattled onward into the countryside. Finally, it ground to a shaky halt in the middle of a rambling collection of shacks and shanties. I emerged with confidence and determinedly sunk my feet into several inches of deep mud, courtesy of the previous evening’s rain.

mist hangs suspended
bewitching, elusive
drifts over the soybean field
reaching up from the neighbor’s lake
reaching, rising
a breath from a soul

the moon is a mirror
a sliver less than full
a mirror of your inside
warmth, wildness, wonder
and room to grow
its cool light echoes over the cool earth
a consolation
against the death of day