I look up and experience her music as a Beatitude of Peace, a feathery sonnet that rings of grace and hope...

Is it not a marvel?

I am singing/of the wonder of how roots/so love the buds they bid them grow...

Ultimately it will be the small things that unite us...

We are living today with time to do good for ourselves and for each other.

we are here, and flowing, in and of, made of, because of You

See how the winds have shaped her hands to hold hope? So tenuous, it trembles like a hummingbird’s heart. She gently carries hope to a nest in the midst of the maelstrom and tilts it into the bowl of tiny feathers and mosses. Hope is so hard to cup. She might need your help when it seeps through...

In my chapel, redwing blackbird unravels her liquid song in the cattails.

It would be a quieter holiday, no fireworks or loud parades, no speeches, no salutes to any flag, a day of staying home instead of crowding away, a day we celebrate nothing gained in war but what we’re given — how the sun’s warmth is democratic, touching everyone, and the rain is democratic...

The Solstices teach us that darkness comes, that darkness goes. The Solstices teach us that light comes, that light goes. The Solstices teach us, calmly, silently, to be calm, silent. Learning. The Solstices teach us as we circle the sun that everything flies....