I have my ghost stories. We all have them. When I was a teenager, fourteen years old or so, I was out with a collection of friends...

People like the pretty flowers. Their supple textures and brilliant colors. The way a flower mysteriously rests atop an elastic stem,...

A week ago, I set out for Cedar Point, about an hour north, to photograph birds. About halfway there, the banality of bird photography...

I grew up in a protestant church tradition that valued not complaining, chin-up manners, correct posture, and constrained yawns while...

Tomorrow I will head to the mountains. But today I am standing on Wrightsville Beach. The sun is out, the wind is cold. When the ocean...

“So, I hear you don’t want to take your meds anymore,” she said. Her face contorted with equal measures of disbelieve and ridicule. I...

I am visited by the dead in my dreams; I speak to them in dreams. A friend came last night. He said nothing or little, and I had no idea...

Given the Holy Family traveled around the time of Christ’s birth, it strikes me as a bit ironic that we seem fixated with being home at...

Daily, the sun blinks out of existence in the late afternoon. The winter solstice nears. Darkness expands, reaching, grabbing, emptying...

The tree, so perfectly silhouetted, a likeness of Form: once prefiguring, then fastened with God, and now foreshadowing, it pines for the...