It’s time to speak the truth that has been eating at my edges, diminishing my crust, preparing my soul to be vulnerably gobbled up by this eternal child. 

I fear that all of my careful preparations will, in the end, fail to produce worthy results. This angst is solidly rooted in so many carefully aged experiences.

But you, my God of personal mercy, can carry away this bucket of shame-heavy doubt, and leave me smiling, sun kissing my face, looking for someone to share my elation. 

empty locust tree

no squirrels this warm morning,

i wait for peace