A  Saint Psalmody I look to you, Francis of Assisi, and what you did when you answered the call. How your hands must have ached, holding each stone on those cold mornings. You lifted stone after stone into place, until the pile of ruins took on the image of the old Church it once was.…

Blossoming Terrors     The Japanese Maple grew in the center of 52 Holland’s front yard. Its long branches stretch to the sky like a petitioning priest. Its maroon foliage crowns the tree like a lion’s mane. It beautifully fills my bedroom’s picture window by day. But by night, illuminated by a streetlamp, the tree…