Amy Secrist

Tag: gifts

  • Gifts

    My girls bring flowers they pick from around our brick house, sprigs of lavender, blooms of crysanthemum, leaves of weigela.  I fill the clear glass jar with indigo, orange, and burgundy. Like God on my sill it sits, gifts from gifts.

  • The Immeasurable

    My days are measured in stacks of clothes and dishes, morning passing into night through plates of food and containers of water. I remember yesterday in the deliciousness of re-warmed stew; I see the future in little pajama-shirts I will never fold again. My children’s days are measured in the cards they will play and…