Saturday, February 22, 2025, 9*
A crow called out; no answer came. It wove easily through swaying trees unbothered by shifting winds. Without calling the crow circled the pond and beyond. A small seagull, favoring the open sky, soared following the crow. What are they doing here? They aren’t a pair. What are they looking for? Is it coincidence that brings them here or something I have no way of knowing?
I told a friend yesterday about a list I made when Bruce went to do the shopping when we lived in Oklahoma. He showed it to someone in the store and asked if they could read my writing. Neither one could make it out. It made no sense. Whatever could I have meant by “tornado” plant? Certainly nothing I wanted in my flowerpots; it had been a long time since I had a garden. I can see how my writing transitioned from tomato to tornado plant. Bruce and I laughed so much over this. We would just look at each other and laugh. He would often ask when he went shopping if I needed any more “tornado” plants and our laughter would begin again.
“I thank my God
in all my remembrance of you,”
Philippians 1:3 ESV
Art: LJ Austin
