As sure as first light, the silvery mist rises from Scotland’s moors and mountains and lingers all the day, past midnight blue. It is a perfumed haze, a glimpse of the Son of Man himself, Jesus, Warrior and King—who walks in thin air across the land. His footprints drip in the mist with fragrance as…
First Rain
Sometimes the rain carries me to the eternal God Himself whose shadow He deigned to shimmer within a fading fragment— like a raindrop. When heaven and earth blend, the atmosphere grows redolent with eternity. One small picture of that mix is rain and earth. First rain mingled with soil takes on an irresistible scent. Before…
Yes
Yes, I’ll journey with you to Skull Hill in springtime, the hyacinths dripping of perfume and the lily blazing purity in the flooding sunshine of noonday. I’m frail and naked and ashamed— beaten and exposed to my bone’s marrow, but I will go with you. I’ll fall upon you in the river of crimson that…
Pause to Peer
I will never tire of hearing, “Look, Marmee, a butterfly!” My grandchildren, Vivie and Emmett, shriek with joy when one flies close or lands nearby. Their curiosity intensifies in the presence of this fanciful winged being, and their wonder sparks! And you know what? You don’t need to be a child to love these illusive…
Wintering Winter
The Tree in Winter The winter, barren branch, firmly rooted, standing stark against a scarlet-stained sky has long been one of my favorite metaphors for life. I have spent close to 50 winters contemplating its beauty and message. In every testing period of my life, its sermon of hope becomes my winter song of making…
Gleam
Millions of pinholes twinkle across a midnight sky, a bubbly mountain river shimmers in sunlight as it flows to the sea, sand glistens through the water at the ocean shore, bright eyes gleam from a distant playground, and a smoldering ember glows red hot to the end. A small thing it is not…to shine, to…
Second Chances
The only thing better than a second chance is a third or fourth chance! New, unpacked opportunities pave the way for dozens of tight, pink buds on an ancient tree called hope, called second chances. That’s what the new year offers. I’m beginning my 73rd “second chance” by starting fresh in the year of our…
Proclamation
The black earth that swallowed the acorn, and the seed that died and split open. The tender sapling that shivered to rise, and the tree that towered above the house to touch the clouds. The roots that bore deep below the sand and rock, and the verdant leaves that waved with the wind. The veins…
Life and Light
Writers, especially poets, often endeavor to incorporate the magic of falling or slanting light into their musings—the way it reflects off the water, shines through the trees, or forms shadows on the wall. They are occasionally criticized for their feeble attempts—metaphors too worn out with over-usage and too prosaic. How do you capture and bend…
Beautiful Words
I’m tenderly moving the stones around the velvet-lined box of cedar. Some, I pick up to examine—peering into their deep and light shades of color. I’m looking for beauty, clarity, and roughed authenticity, scars—yet polished by time and conflict. The gems will string together to tell the story of what I see and don’t see,…
Bonnie Saul Wilks 