Tag: nature
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The Intelligence of Winter
Winter doesn’t arrive so much as recalibrate the world. First a thinning, light siphoned from the sky in long, slow increments, as if the earth is teaching us again the math of enough. The forests feel it earliest. Each tree, a quiet instrument tuned to the smallest shift in the planet’s tilt, listens as the…
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When the Sky Cries Fire
(A Spoken Word Piece Inspired by Recent Events in California) . The ground split beneath us, a fissure not of earth, but of soul – a trembling truth that screamed, “Everything breaks if held too tight.” California, you stood bold against oceans and begged the mountains to hold your back. But the earth is restless…
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From the Depths Within
Dear Wanderer, To live from the marrow, to reach where the soul meets the divine, to draw forth the fire that God planted, and let it burn—not for the world to see, but to feel. To feel it in the quiet rhythm of your breath, in the weight of your steps on this holy, uneven…
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Anticipating Sunday …
Dear Wanderer, Tonight, the air is steeped in quiet, a cold expectancy that stretches across the fields and settles deep into the bones of the earth. The temperature will fall to 24 degrees, and I can only wonder how the morning will rise—what shape the light will take, what story the wind will carry. The…
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Nature’s Poetry
Dear Wanderer, There is a poem woven into every leaf, a hymn in the hum of bees and the quiet rustle of grasses bending beneath the weight of the wind. . Each stone speaks of ages beyond counting, holding the memory of rivers that once sang across its surface, whispering stories of a Creator who…
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Winter Beneath the Hawthorn
Dear Wanderer, The Green Hawthorn holds its vigil, its branches a quiet offering to the winter sky, still adorned with a scattering of crimson berries— the last gifts of the year. They shine like tiny flames against the muted tapestry of Tennessee’s December. . The land is bare, yet alive, the air brisk with a…
Field Notes of a Wanderer 