Maybe I am becoming a hermit, opening the door for only a few special animals? Maybe my skull is too crowded and it has no opening through which to feed it soup?

Today God gives milk / and I have the pail.

You who have inhabited me in the deepest and most broken place, are going, going

Let there be seasons so that our tongues will be rich in asparagus and limes.

Today life opened inside me like an egg.

God owns heaven but He craves the earth.

The joy that isn't shared dies young.