All Posts By: Byron McCoy

FEATHERS

                “There are some who can live without wild things, and some who cannot.”                 “Oh,” she said.  “Oh.”                 “You can read, Kya.  There will never be a time again when you can’t read.”                 “It ain’t just that.”  She spoke almost in a whisper.  “I wadn’t aware that words could hold so much.  […]

WHEN LOVE DIED

                It was the autumn love died; when late summer drought browned the pastures premature and early frost killed the leaves of the woods that fell without color or splendor in transition.                 Bleak winter followed: colorless and dry until late snows fell and stayed heavy on the earth.                 Beneath, the world was changing.  […]

MORNING GUEST

                He sat again with his angel again, resting at kitchen table with steam of coffee rising as sign and incense between vision of the two.                 “I’ve been reading Deuteronomy,” he shared.  “I don’t think I’ve ever read it before, but the review and words of Moses at his end; his reiteration to honor […]

WITH MORNING SUN

                He sat with the morning sun, with the cricket songs of late summer season that played day and night within surrounding fields.  He sat with the vines, wet in after-rain, as droplets traced, beaded and fell downward from low tendrils and once-trumpet lily blooms brought to fruit by bees and beaks of hummingbirds drawn […]

ECCLESIASTES

ECCLESIASTES                 Today is a detour from the Gospel of Saint Luke.  Reading Luke one chapter at a time and trying to break it down into thoughts, I needed a break and redirection.  For this, I went back to one of my favorite books in the Old Testament: Ecclesiastes.                 For Ecclesiastes, I’m not breaking […]