Gramma’s House 

Ryan O’Neil submitted the following poem, originally crafted as a song, on the death of his beloved grandmother.

Hummingbirds dancing in the summer sunlight,
The orchard hides us from passing prying eyes.
The night owl calls, whispering the mystery
That illuminates imagination in your mind.

Come mend your soul at Gramma’s house.
There’s always room for you at Gramma’s house.
Come mend your soul at Gramma’s house.
There’s always love for you at Gramma’s house.

Dew drops fall from the flowers in the garden
As worker bees hum the chorus from their leaves.
Sit and watch treetops playing in the breeze
As silent smiles applaud the secrets of the time.

Come mend your soul at Gramma’s house.
There’s always room for you at Gramma’s house.
Come mend your soul at Gramma’s house.
There’s always love for you at Gramma’s house.

The memories are always with me.
The memories are always with me.

Of Trees

Reader Karen Rush shares the evolution of her understanding of trees, and how she seeks to deepen her knowledge of the natural world, God’s original creation.

I remember the moment when, as a young girl alone on a sidewalk, the beauty of trees sank into my heart. At that time I thought of trees as a collective forest. Their tall, stiff trunks were backbones of support for countless people and other animals. Their tops danced in the wind above us all. In the following years, I would store the intention to one day focus on trees as individuals. That day has come as I am now seeking to notice their adaptations, to learn the human words we’ve assigned to their patterns, to have a broader understanding of their beauty.