Rest
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As summer’s curtain drops and the stage resets for another academic year, I return to my only camping excursion in late June with my second youngest son. We gathered with a group of friends and fathers to camp and kayak. The food and fellowship were wonderful and our time on the Allegheny River, including stops
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Wrestling Insipidity: Between Inspiration and Fatigue By Vincent H. Anastasi 2024 This perpetual exhaustion tires me to no end,and in those quiescent momentswhen I bolt the door on duty,I await the belated muse —but my lamp’s expired and, once again,I have missed the long-expected groom.I assume when each demanding “to do” is done,primed to write,
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Life is full of transitions. For me, the end of summer comes a month early with a return to the classroom. Those days of school starting after Labor Day are long forgotten. Just before my summer vacation came to a close, I intentionally spent one last Sunday seated in my camping chair in the middle
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Originally posted on My Pastoral Ponderings: What is a miracle? There are lots of miracles recorded in the Bible, as this poem reminds us. But, still, what is a miracle, especially in this time that “is not the age of miracles”? Perhaps the greatest miracle of our time is faith – simply trusting in God’s…
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Advent: December 20 By Vincent H. Anastasi 2022 Bumper to bumper, the traffic inches forward; evening’s stars emerge. Crossing this urban desert, I, too, seek the source of Rest.
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It’s not Wolf Creek, but it will have to do. If I could have had a decent camera with me a few Sundays ago as I floated down the creek that borders our property, staring up into the cerulean sky with only a few cumulus clouds floating by, then I could have captured the exact
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The academic year winds down, and all the responsibilities and tasks that come with it come crashing in like a tsunami. At the same time, gigs are picking up and I’m readying myself to serve as an AP reader in early June. In the midst of this, I tweaked my neck and it’s taken multiple
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As I hinted in my last post, I had an unforeseen trip to the optometrist last Wednesday. What I initially thought was a pernicious eyelash playing hide-and-seek beneath my eyelid ended up being a two-day ordeal that led to the removal of a minuscule calcification that had been abrading my cornea. And though I can’t
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When I began crafting this poem, I fully intended to mimic the style of Geoffrey Chaucer’s “General Prologue” to The Canterbury Tales: “When that August with his beastly heat…” However, I found the set meter and rhyme too restricting for the random wanderings of a father and his young sons up and down the stream
the deepening ground 