by Deb Farris | Mar 28, 2021 | Devotions, Poetry
From pulpit to pew the words land wrong, wrestling with each other. I ask, “What will I lose if I lose myself to You? What will I leave behind?” It’s too much to consider so I remain as I am. Or is it that I have returned To find You waiting in my dust and have...
by Deb Farris | Feb 8, 2020 | Devotions, Poetry
Walking through the woods in an icy winter snow when breath becomes crystallized and trees bejeweled Or walking in the spring when a tree births new buds and leaves trails of sweet scents to linger Or napping beneath a summer umbrella of limbs as breezes, scarves of...
by Deb Farris | Oct 19, 2018 | Memoir, Musings, Poetry
I think the pumpkins are going to make it this year. There must be enough in the neighborhood to keep the squirrels eating courses, traveling from house to house like we’ve always wanted to do ourselves: first course at Winnie’s, second at Connelly’s , third at...
by Deb Farris | Jul 19, 2018 | Musings, Poetry
It is anchored there, like a buoy of protection, informing me of my inability and limitations, as if to say, “Do not swim beyond this point, silly child.” The ropes, north and south, define the boundaries. But I am stubborn, the sea beyond looks bluer. The sun...
by Deb Farris | Jul 14, 2018 | Devotions, Musings, Poetry
My eyes follow the ants marching in a straight line up the side of the house heading toward the kitchen window after first discovering them assembled in clusters beneath the pots of oregano, basil and fennel that I keep forgetting to snip for our summer suppers and I...
by Deb Farris | Jul 7, 2018 | Memoir, Musings, Poetry
I walked by a parking lot this morning and remembered that night, that summer, all these years ago now. I laid awake until I finally got up and went out looking for you. Love and anger, our two unwieldy emotions, were so well-blended together. Did you think of me as...