
As they make music they will sing,
“All my fountains are in you.” Psalm 87:7

As they make music they will sing,
“All my fountains are in you.” Psalm 87:7

A hot summer day,
Once again I read someone
Else’s mail. Sipping
Lemonade as I crochet
Edges of reality.

The leaves fall. As I
Count the dry bones, I breathe forth
The silence of death
Woven from mountains and skies
Which hem in the Beloved.

My breath twines with snow
Yet to come. They rebuke me
For seeing the dark,
But what choice was I given?
The winter is my needle.

Spring’s my thread of green.
New like the shards of broken
Mirrors. Pieces placed
Like manifold wisdom, glimpse
Reality’s tapestry

I am not the year
Nor a season, month or day.
I am but minutes
Who count the threads leading
To the finished work, God’s hand.
Learn more about Skillet Here.

Nostalgia lives in the autumn fire .


Glorious things are said of you,
city of God:[a]
4 “I will record Rahab[b] and Babylon
among those who acknowledge me—
Philistia too, and Tyre, along with Cush[c]—
and will say, ‘This one was born in Zion.’”[d]
5 Indeed, of Zion it will be said,
“This one and that one were born in her,
and the Most High himself will establish her.”
6 The Lord will write in the register of the peoples:
“This one was born in Zion.” Psalm 87:3-6
Learn more about the artist Josh Garrels Here.

Glorious things are said of you,
city of God:[a]
4 “I will record Rahab[b] and Babylon
among those who acknowledge me—
Philistia too, and Tyre, along with Cush[c]—
and will say, ‘This one was born in Zion.’”[d]
5 Indeed, of Zion it will be said,
“This one and that one were born in her,
and the Most High himself will establish her.”
6 The Lord will write in the register of the peoples:
“This one was born in Zion.” Psalm 87:3-6
Learn more about the artists of Oase Gemeente Here.