Isaiah 49:1-2 NIV
[1] Listen to me, you islands; hear this, you distant nations: Before I was born the Lord called me; from my mother’s womb he has spoken my name. [2] He made my mouth like a sharpened sword, in the shadow of his hand he hid me; he made me into a polished arrow and concealed me in his quiver.

They pepper me with questions on the way to the office. When it is just the three of us we can lean into our survivors’ solidarity—

How do birds fly? What are shooting stars?

I want to say you are shooting stars, bright bits of light in night sky, not stars, but bits of iron and silicate broken from the mother rock

Contrails in the inky sky

I wanted to share this because it seems to bd pretty thorough—

https://davidjeremiah.blog/what-is-the-rapture/

The words spill out about a horror movie you showed them and I say excuse me girls I need to make a brief phone call

And walk to the phone booth at the end of the world—

Just a couple of Dixie cups and grubby yarn but a good enough connection for me to

Shout

I am so angry at you! How could you have picked monsters instead of little girls? How could you have let them see all those scary movies? The too-real monster men? The empty ache for an awake mama?

I am so pissed at you

No wonder they have been angry too

Few leaves stay behind strung to winter branches
Those that remain anchored by the unseen

Yet they still speak
Wind-whirl
Sun-soaked
Small brown ghosts
Worship

Over the weekend one of our neighbors spotted a wounded buck on the banks of the Lake Dunlap portion of the Guadalupe.

He had wounds on his back leg and he was not able to walk.

The police were called and an officer assured us they would contact the owner of the property and “take care of” the deer.

In the end they dragged the deer’s carcass into the river 10-15 feet from the riverbank where he was last seen alive.

https://youtu.be/PB0-x9hfvsc