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Something That Will Not Rest
I have been a foolish, greedy, and ignorant man; Yet I have had my time beneath the sun and stars; I have known the returning strength and sweetness of the seasons, Blossom on the branch and the ripening of fruit, The deep rest of the grass, the salt of the sea, The frozen ecstasy of mountains. The earth is nobler than the world we have built upon it; The earth is long-suffering, solid, fruitful; The world is still shifting, dark, half-evil. But what have I done that I should have a better world, Even though there is in me something that will not rest Until it sees Paradise…? Johnson in…
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I Pass, I Wonder
A couple of miles from my home, just off the highway, an old shed juts out of the side of a hill near a double-wide trailer. Such distant structures don’t usually catch my eye, but the last couple of weekends, my wife has done the driving when we venture out. I’ve enjoyed the break and especially the chance to see things I don’t usually notice because I’m focused on the road ahead. The other day I took notice of the shed, and the fact that what looked like an older man was sitting inside the shed in a chair, hunkered over a desk or table. What could he be doing?…
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To Sit, To Dwell
I can still see her sitting there. Unless the day was quite cold, my grandmother did a fair share of her daily work sitting in the battered rocking chair on her front porch. Many’s the time I’ve seen her with a pan of peas or beans on her lap, her gnarled fingers selecting and snapping and dropping. Or with a garment that needed mending, her gray head bent over the fabric as she guided the needle through its proper places. Or with her Reader’s Digest Condensed Bible with its worn, pillowed green cover, open on her aproned lap, bookmarked with newspaper clippings (mostly obituaries) and leaves and pressed wildflowers. But…