I am still unaccustomed
to the spring sun shining
down in February after so
many years of snow on snow,
nor have I grown to grasp
what is already growing
in our yard: gentle shoots
of promise, tree buds of
tenacity, but I do know
enough to dig and clear,
to rake and remulch,
to prune and prepare . . .
and then come inside
smelling like hope,
like the good earth,
and already hungry
for the vegetables
I have yet to plant.
Peace,
Milton
It’s getting down to crunch time in the baseball season, which means it doesn’t take much for my sermon to intersect with the Red Sox. Here’s what I said on Sunday. ________________________________ In the fall of 2004, I was the Associate Pastor of the First Congregational Church of
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Last week’s lectionary passage is one of my favorites. Here’s what I had to say on Sunday. __________________________ Right after Ginger and I got back from our trip to Durham last month, we noticed a plant that had sprung up along our back fence line. It was not there
I think this is the first time that thinking about prayer took me to both Robert Frost and ice hockey. Here’s my sermon for this week. ____________________________ My twelfth grade English teacher Ms. Morse is responsible, in part, for my love of poetry—particularly the poems of Robert Frost. When