We live much of life amid unique choices. Joy is anchored in The One beyond our life. |
Sometimes when I would rhyme a rhyme the rhyme won't come apace. I other things would do betimes to look for writing grace. And then the rhyme would flow it best, while focused on the deed. 'Tis writing actions through the test, that make a verse to read. The poem's gift through daily days stands lumberjack at words. To chop, to hone, to carve displays. to make a nest for birds. Sometimes I need a knotted craft to spark the words I need. Embroidery threads and cherished laugh, creative things now freed. The "hope of every contrite heart," the Saving Lord all blest may cause my words to slowly start, while leading to His Rest. by Jay O’Toole on August 28th, 2025 ![]() |