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Most days, as I arrive home, I’m scanning the tree line, hoping to see one of three bunnies that live in my yard. They adore my abundance of clover.

The newest is just a baby. This morning, as I walked out before leaving the house, he emerged from beneath a pine, stretching as if I had disturbed his sleep. It’s the same tree where I saw him last night, as my headlights traced the edge of his ‘one of a kind’ bunny ears. Regardless of my day, I squeal with delight when I see him or one of the others.cloverlove

They remind me of a truth far deeper than ever I could write.

I am a child of nature. There’s no other place where I feel as whole, as blessed. There are places I know of that seem to be as close to heaven as possible. The air is clearer, the pace a bit slower, and even babies stop their crying.

Every breath is one of divine intention, manifestation of a loving God.

I believe the hardest commandment to keep is the last – Thou shall not covet. I feel the need to confess every time I visit Millie’s port. I’m in total envy of her place in North Carolina. I imagine the cool dirt path beneath my toes, the soft shush of wind pushing bough against limb.

There’s a similar spot not far from me, where I cannot pass without stopping, sloughing off my shoes, and wading into waters surely as clear and cool as they were thousands of years ago.

It is my refuge, my recharger. It is home regardless of where I’m going or how long I’ve been gone.

it is here that I
what was surely the
set deep in my bones
a voice
I remember
from a far distant place

was to gather me
a wanting so right
I could lay
side by side
with the stars
tracing back the journey
the ways we had come
returning of souls
unto one

creator of all
calls my beginning
no other the same
as the fate
of a sparrow
a silent recall
to the heart
we were sharing
one day

a lighted
of cedar and spring
propped up
by the night

here I am nothing
everything true
a melding of shadow
endeared to the light
memory given to name

beloved of heaven
writer of wings
breath I have tasted
as mine
is known in this
where I am begun
from a song
once the robins
were singing
so sweet

. . .