The sun rises. What a sentence: I love the cadence and the notion and yet, I’m struck this morning by its untruth, for the sun does not rise. Earth, with …
on traces geological
Hope is like a candle that, even when no longer burning, leaves a slight touch of warmth in the room. We see the flame even when it is gone, and …
on footpaths and forgetting
View Poston being anyway
At birth, we’re set loose in our dreams and visions and doings, bringing the world into being alongside myriad other beings and anew every day, whether we know it or …
on learning to be
View Poston the stillness in chaos
In the quiet moments of hurry-burly days—those flashes of time that bend time itself but do not stop its journey—there is a reckoning beneath the hurries, beneath the burlies, beneath …
on the lessons of a fly
View Poston trust
Trust this day, and trust yourself, and let the rest go by.
on mothers not of us
She is gone, but I remember this little white hen who mothered me and anyone else who crossed her paths. Part affection, part control, part good neighbor, part good scold, …
on a bee and being
For long minutes one afternoon recently, I watched this tiny bee, writhing in some untold agony. The farm girl part of me said, “You should kill it, end its suffering, …