Here is my poem for the third Sunday of Advent.
In response to the Gospel of Luke:
Elizabeth
Elizabeth, tell me,
was it the same angel?
Was it the one with the thunderous
reassurance?
Mary,
were you perplexed, frightened?
Was there a just a moment of doubt?
Just a second when you felt, “not me?”
Dear Elizabeth,
bewildered and frightened and more,
just before
knowing it was an angel at our doors.
Till next week,
Andrew
The trouble with being in the rat race is that even if you win, you’re still a rat.
— Lily Tomlin
Our little kitties aren’t so little anymore. The two big ones now weigh in at about 14 pounds and have out grown the little cute cat beds we bought them two years ago. I made this corner table for Boots. Now she has her own large bed in the cat room.
New table for cat bed. Okay, boots has to live over her litter box, but it hasn’t bothered her yet.
I put some carpet on the top and Heather found a small dog bed for the large cat (bonus – it was on sale!). All the wood for the project is just shop scraps that quicky threw together to make this.
If you need me – I’ll be in the shop,
Andrew
Here is my poem for the second Sunday of Advent.
In response to the Gospel of Mark:
Going?
Are you going?
I heard he’s by the river forgiving sins.
Do you think he really can?
Pass me the polish,
these spoons sure are tarnished.
Yes, just like my soul, wise guy.
Yours could use a good scrub.
I’ll go with you to the river.
What? Someone better than him is coming.
Oh, I heard that too.
Do you know what he was saying about the spirit?
Tomorrow, let’s go to the river.
Till next week,
Andrew
