A Note to Sophie

Sophie Scholl


The sun is shining today,

It shines every day for me.

For my world is not of yours,

Admiring you, I stay.


Eyes and faith laid inside you,

To see stolen justice.

The slaughter was too much for men,

To silently obey.


A short life cut in seconds,

The blade dropping fast.

You offered yourself, without thought,

A sacrifice retold.


No greater love has any man,

To give up everything.

The last breadth, wisdom full,

For friends and others unknown.


I know no Sophie,

Before my time, a woman full of God.

Who showed this way to follow Him,

All it cost was love.








In Memory of Sophie Scholl. Christian Martyr and Revolutionary.


Merged BW

Will I enjoy walking through this beauty,

Never to notice you.

To see what lies under these protected feet,

Or look up at the sunset,

While I remain distracted at daybreak.


“What were you saying?”

The Thing About Boats



What is it about boats? Why do I keep taking photographs of them?

Is it their relationship with water, tenuous yet stable,

Co-existent, but not permanent,

Defiant, nonetheless loving.

I really don’t know.


Maybe it’s the soft and the hard,

The fluid and the stationary,

The peace and the storm,

Perhaps just the ever changing nature.

Peculiar and hard to pin down.


Oh, I know, it’s the colors,

Something the salty platform does to the boat,

Changing the bright into the pastel,

Forcing an always new color to be fused,

Lest the sea take over with its encrusted white.


No, the colors aren’t it,

Yet they contribute,

Shimmering together when calm like a mirror,

In a way the water, the bride, can only do.

Showing the state of the relationship, frozen in a moment to reflect upon.


It might be man and nature,

Yes, I think that’s it.

The boat is the safety and the transport,

Winging man to new vistas, for trade or pleasure,

The little explorer in all is satisfied.


Waiting, patiently, boats sit quietly till the call is made,

Summoned by tides and weather reports, to make their way.

Otherwise sitting idly by, lapping the day away, dreaming of a new adventure,

For those who are willing to ride the waves,

Uneasy with risk, filled with supplies and a desire to travel.


The relationship remains a mystery to me,

But I will keep looking and loving the boats.

Imagining their trips and those who have lived in them,

Whether they are working boats, or just trophies for the weekend man who has achieved greatness on earth,

Boats have their story to tell.


I only have to look.

The Words Clouds Speak

Clouds 2 _DSC8300-1


Not all clouds are created equal,

And sometimes dark appear right alongside white,

Making weather forecasting difficult,

Just by looking up.


Yet, when light is strewed amongst them,

Lit from the side and above,

Their true colors emerge,

For just a moment.


Telling us more than rain conjecture,

Rather the traffic lights of what has been,

And what is to come,

In colors and shapes only God could make.


Perhaps I will look up today, just for a change.

We are Two

Cedar St flowers L1003137-1


Cedar St flowers L1003137-1

The Bride says:
On my bed at night I sought him
whom my heart loves–
I sought him but I did not find him.
I will rise then and go about the city;
in the streets and crossings I will seek
Him whom my heart loves.
I sought him but I did not find him.
The watchmen came upon me,
as they made their rounds of the city:
Have you seen him whom my heart loves?
I had hardly left them
when I found him whom my heart loves.

Song of Songs  3:1-4