Winter Musings
By Chris Ribaudo He waited to release a dove and for its return. He labored for Rachel’s hand. He stayed on a mountain for stone tablets. He hid in arid
By Chris Ribaudo He waited to release a dove and for its return. He labored for Rachel’s hand. He stayed on a mountain for stone tablets. He hid in arid
By Sarah Graham She gazes, transfixed On Him. On Him, whose umbilical cord Still pulses with her blood. Whose lips pucker, rooting, Head bobs, searching. He, whose Word Made her.
By Blake Adams There is a Santa Claus. He was a fourth-century bishop in modern Turkey during some of the most interesting times in Christian history. He survived the Diocletian