Still, Small

I think of quiet.

The world’s cacophony assaults and I hunger for silence, I bathe in solitude at every opportunity.

I make space for these.

One morning when I am not thinking of quiet, I am distracted by a different stillness.

I look up and listen.

For surely I will hear a whisper in this thin place.

Word wrangler. Photo taker. I'm here early most mornings with one of my photos and a few words about life and those thin places where faith intersects.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.