I love a full, silvery winter moon against an icy-cold, inky-blue, clear sky. Its radiance sparkling upon freshly falling snow makes me want to stop–urgently–to “watch the meadow fill” just like my old friend, Robert Frost… and to gaze upon the moonlight sparkle-play upon the “downy frost.” There is dancing when the nighttime skylight shines…
Tag: photography
Language
Lofty thoughts, which become ideals and hopefully–actions like forgiveness, freedom, liberty, holiness, purity, redemption, atonement, justice, retribution, love, kindness, patience, or equality begin as seeds planted in the souls of mankind by the Spirit of God hovering upon the treasure of the universe. As we mature to grapple–chew and swallow these, they break through concrete barriers with rapid force and power like…
Elk Crossing the Lake
Sunrise broke a couple of large marble pots leaning against the walls of heaven and sky. Did you know that the colors of dawn and dusk are stored in these magnificent stone jars? They stand waiting in the wings of aurora and twilight, ready to be broken open and slathered across the horizon. Freshly released,…
Transformation
Transformation Is there any gold in the world more valuable than this— other than the golden moment when the red, red rose bled into the desert wasteland, transforming it into a green green garden? Bonnie Saul Wilks Even the wilderness and desert will be glad in those days. The wasteland will rejoice and blossom with spring…
Ineffable
Remember when we watched—mesmerized by majestic deer on the distant highlands, feeding at noon? And our friends exclaimed, “How intriguing for this time of day!” The ground shook; and the sun, moon, and stars broke to pause and peer for a lifetime of five seconds. It was the cry of the seagulls and arcs of…
For Freedom
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…
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…
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…
Blurred Words
Tonight I blurred my words and remembered you, fondly. Sometimes when you blur your words with a friend—it heals your soul, and you know you’re not alone. You are not alone. The vagueness of life demands analgesic, and sharing of vulnerabilities leaves the sweetest taste. In the braided arms of convivial moments and beloved friends…
Bonnie Saul Wilks 