Husband.
Father.
PCA Pastor.
Slightly sarcastic.
Apt to laughter.

An autumn afternoon

A low sun slices fall air,
the crisp knife casting long shadows.
Everything shines, illuminated seemingly
from within.
Grass spears gleam—pointing, straining
onward, homebound.
The chill whispers of future cold,
of fires, of family, of home.
Belonging.
Blue sky yawning over fair trees,
clinging desperately to final leaves.
Leaves blow, then fall, bidding farewell
till spring’s warmth brings reunion.
So is life,
till all is made new.

Anti-Psalm 27 (Kristen Stewart)

Anti-Psalm 8