With Prayer and Song

Most Saturdays on my way home from a coffee date at Zumi's with Dave, I notice a cornfield in Ipswich. Sometimes the field is covered with dazzling snow; sometimes it boasts corn as high as an elephant's eye.

This week, I passed it at the tail end of my drive home from Maine after being away for nine days.

The cornrows had been cleared.

The empty field caught my eye.

I tucked its essence into a corner of my mind and carried it home.

I am walking through this week baby step by baby step.

I am painting that harvested, bared field inch by inch.

Do you know the Garden Song?

Plant your rows straight and long
Temper them with prayer and song.

I'm planting my rows with paint. Tempering them with prayer and song.

saying goodbye 2, 10/27/15
work in progress