Gazelles and stags bounding across hills. Flowers blooming. Spring erupting. Life exploding. [BTW/ Isn’t it interesting that the Church offers an alternative reading in case someone thinks this sensuous poetry might be too much for us? Oh well, the Church has never liked poets an dprophets!]

Then, I peer out across the valley and the mountains from my living room. Nothing is bounding. It is cold. Clouds blocked the lunar eclipse. A dull rainy haze obscures Brasstown Bald. Anotehr rainy winter day is upon us. Continue reading →