On Prayer: 1 Peter 5:5-7

This is probably the first year since I could hold a pen that I didn't make New Year's Resolutions. After recently taking the enneagram and discovering myself to be the "Reformer" (wing "Achiever") this is rather surprising. I love goals and lists and plans and I work, practice, study, and exercise consistently. However, while I…

Dear Mr. Dickens: An Open Letter

My dear Mr. Dickens, I hope you are well and not at all rolling over in your grave. (It is, after all, nearing Christmas and renditions of your famous holiday tale are promenading before audiences who are mostly wondering whether they actually turned off the oven or whether the turkey they pretend to like is…

Little Elegy

Walking through Cambridge, inspiration is difficult to avoid. My apologies to those on the sidewalk who had to go around me as I stopped to give this poor bird a proper elegy. "His eye is on the sparrow," so 'tis sung But 'neath some foot or wheel its feathers flung- Poor claws curled up in…

Unravel

The irony is that I was unable to write this story for several months due to the demands of the everyday... enjoy! 😉   Unravel Not another! she thought, plucking at a thread on her favorite navy blue jumper. It hurt her to pull on it, she was so fond of the old sweater. With…

Non-Writing Writer

I was inspired this morning as I walked to practice piano for an upcoming recital... this would have been great, had I been inspired to practice. Rather, I was inspired to set the opening of Wordsworth’s The Prelude to music.  My roommate (bless her) stopped me just in time: “Ryanne, if you write a melody and…

A Sunset Reflection 

I took this photo on a sunset run and added the words (surprise! They were not actually fabulous skywriting!) as I was doing some reading later. The exercise, combined with the wisdom of St. Hildegard, were a welcome relief to an emotional day.  Sometimes on overcast days like today, we fail to remember the sun.…

Three o’Clock in the Morning

Three in the morning, an hour of woe, Breathes heartache and mourning and deepest sorrow. Its minutes are counted with seconds and sighs As in blanket-mound bed fears dance 'fore sore eyes. The moments just lumber- a funeral dirge- While we, seeking slumber, turn, toss on its verge. The stillness is silence as cold as…

Late Night Writes

When night falls yet I cannot sleep, words crowd my brain. The following two poems, one serious and the other silly, are the products of last night's writing: "Hover" I lay still in my bed yet hover 'tween the sheets propelled by the heart  which wakefully beats.  A'whirl my mind spirals through darkening, deep space…

Books from Abroad

I'm back from a six week tour and study trip to four different countries and, thanks to jet lag, my brain is wide awake while my body is still confused as to whether it's time for second breakfast or a mid-morning nap. So I will take advantage of this forced downtime to go on my…