Freedom The tiny bird flies into the sunlight just like the Great Heron who owns the still blue waters and who sometimes follows me on...

My Sunday Morning Offering: (Photos by Jerri Lynn Sparks) The Privilege Of Poetry I can tell a bird by its song And a broken soul by its...

“Do you know what I wish I was?” I asked my son Jared right before we fell asleep the other night. The house was dark and finally quiet...

A poem about birds... Night came and there was poetry - from young hearts that gradually crept up One boy wore soft lavender hair in a...