I don’t think God will ever come out of hiding the game maker never enters and plays in his own game this way He can watch the action ...

male mourning doves hoot their invitations for love the fledglings listen

my dogs are like my kids my mangoes like brothers peaches pomegranates and mulberries like so many nieces and nephews that come for a...

on Sunday afternoon when the week’s memories retreat into the cave of my past I push a boulder over the entrance and rarely roll that...

when you’ve lived a long life where do you call “home”? the last house you lived in that condo by the beach you loved the town where you...