On wings of prayer

When I was a teenager in a rice farming community in California, one of my favorite activities was walking in the rain on cloudy, windswept days. Our town was on a regular flight path for migrating geese. I loved watching them sweep over the town in a V-shaped pattern. I loved to hear them calling out to each other. Somehow, the sight and sound of them was the epitome of freedom to me. High above me, they plied the heavens with their wings in full, strong motions, at home in the sky. I even wrote a poem about them, which ends:

NEXT IN THIS ISSUE
Article
'Nothingizing' the human drama
September 23, 2013
Contents

We'd love to hear from you!

Easily submit your testimonies, articles, and poems online.

Submit