Stone says to seed: Above I bask in sun or mock the cold, below it’s blindman’s buff with brother stones, light and dark, dark and light are all the same to me all the same to me Root says to seed: I work my way round or push way through, earth holds me while I hold up my tree, light and dark, dark and light—it’s just the dark for me just the dark for me Seed says to root: I carry a new sister for you snug inside, dark of soil is birthing smock and midwife with her I could never come to term and cradle light in my green arms cradle light in my green arms
Third Sunday of Advent
This Sunday, we read from Isaiah, a poem from Mary Oliver and the Gospel According to Luke. William Whitla offers the homily. Through John’s call
