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[Continuing the hymn-for-Sundays series] The Son of God, his final Word, now touched through incarnation; and through this man, observed and heard, was made the whole creation. …

Fading Violas crinkle their leaves, December’s yellow Rose absent citron syrup. A flame of Poppies hang heads like half licked strawberry lollies...

Our Little Table Came Home By Paul McCann . A table handmade and crafted with a Shaker like design by a young tradesman there for sure . I think that...

How much money is there in the world? They keep building these cruise liners, expanding the fleet. They have expanded into the Caribbean, But if they...

Tears stream from Aleppo; blood sunken, shattered city; scarred and ruined, scattered lives while monolithic men, with stone hearts watch; unshaken...

Once you give me a rose A red rose, What has many thorns I am holding it, still Even though you're gone. Though it's bleeding Still, I am holding...

The bricks they may bleed and the rain it may weep And the damp Lagan fog lulls the city to sleep. It's to Hell with the future, we'll live in the past May the Lord in his mercy be kind to Belfast. Maurice James Craig

Karen, You are not perfect. Neither am I. You are not an archetype, a projection; a cipher for my more complicated need for companionship or...

The pantry looked different in the snowy reflections from outside. The car door slammed. Peregrine wolfed down the last handful of cake decorations...