Ode to Pine Needles
It is May, and I am bent over with dustpan and broom, attacking a corner of the entryway—a refuge for castaway dust bunnies and unidentifiable …
It is May, and I am bent over with dustpan and broom, attacking a corner of the entryway—a refuge for castaway dust bunnies and unidentifiable …
Pausing in the pregnant darkness of “Come, Lord Jesus.”