Joy sustains,

Unlike happiness,

It has no temporary mode.


Joy sustains,

Because is it contagious,

Impossible to resist.


Joy sustains,

Due to its grace-filled source.

God’s love for us.

The Stub


Visible on the path,
The tree stub of my presence remains,
Like a mile marker on a journey,
When once they sheltered under my branches,
And now they walk by,
Wondering why this vestige has not been removed.

Not knowing what sort of tree grew here.

A Natural Moustache




Nature knows how to make things the same,

Yet different,

Smiling heartily towards the sun,

While sucking nourishment from the earth,

It’s easy to forget they are not listening to our daily rants and drivel.


As they sit soaking up the rain and rays,

From another New England summer day.



Dreaming of a long time in bed this morning,

Sleep laden eyes force themselves to consume coffee,

Talk to those who need attention way too early,

And dream of a place filled with peace and rest.


My warm bed.