Old battered wood as art.
I thought of angels and old churches
Yet, painted an orchard.
An idea this week, a chronicling of visits…
Friends, women of my Bible.
The stories of them, us. An idea…lingering now for just a bit.
Not fade away this time, Lisa…not tuck underneath…not fade away.
I’d have done many things.
maybe, published and placed
a book in hands of another
had I begun,
in what my heart had spoken clearly
Begin again…not fade away.