holy time {a poem}

I wrote this during my blogging hiatus, so if it sounds more like August than October, that's because it should.

I pass an old woman
joyfully carrying two paper bags
after an early-morning
walk to the grocery store

and a child carefully climbs
the porch steps
into her mother's long
as they wait
for the bus to take
her to kindergarden
or perhaps
they're just sitting
she looks too young

and the heavy dew
streaking dormant cars
reminds me that fall
is not too far,
bringing an unexpected
lightness to my feet --
I've always claimed
as my favorite
yet as I am drawn
to thin places
so am I drawn to
the thin times
of spring and fall
holy time
full of everything
and nothing
and God


  1. Wow! Lovely poetry. I used to write poetry when I was little, I haven't in years! You're very talented. :)

  2. Oh. Oh. This was beautiful! I'm so envious of your poetic skills - normally poetry just sort of floats over my head, but you have captured a feeling that just has no name... (I especially like the 'she looks too young anyway' line - it just sounds like a conversation, you know?)

    ... Sorry this comment isn't more meaningful. As I said, I don't 'get' most poetry, so I don't really have the words to say WHY I like this so much. I just do.

    Beth x

    1. Thanks, Beth! Your comment means a lot to me. :) There's a lot of poetry I don't "get" either -- one of my favorite poets is Robert Frost, who uses common language and familiar images in his poems, making them accessible to everyone.