CHURCH
It's not just a Sunday morning meeting.
It's my umbrella in the rain,
the waitress who brings me my french fries,
the man who fixes my flat tire,
the softest pajamas I own.
It's not just a stone house for gathering.
It's my garage door opener,
the neighborhood dutch-oven cookout,
the friend who brings the kids from school,
my mom's voice on the telephone.
It's not just a life-long promise I've made.
It's more a reason for living—
the long talks I have with my daughters,
the wonder in my baby's eyes,
the joy that swells up with each breath.
YOU ARE READING
FRIDAY NIGHT PIZZA
PoetryThis is poetry about normal, ordinary life. Some of it will rhyme. Some of it won't. But I sincerely hope that anyone who stumbles across this will enjoy reading them as much as I enjoy writing them.
