His prose is delightful, incorporating a sing-song repetition, rooted in the rhythms--and surprises--of nature and time.

Spooneristic poems about Runny Babbit by Shel SIlverstein plus a different poem: Slip on through the fountain in the moonlit air...

There is a lighter side to Le Guin, however, which she shared in her lovely four-book Catwing series for children.

All that I hoped to say in books, all that I ever hoped to say, is that I love the world. E. B. White

"He was the most charming man I’ve known, and he got that side of himself into his writing."

In the artist's journey these inner fears often *are* the Threshold Guardians: I'm not a good enough. This is stupid. Nobody will like it.

The boy is nervous about wild animals that might be stalking around outside. Yet when he hears scratching at the door, he opens it, a bit.

Is there anywhere God isn't? Does God grow? Does God have an edge? Are we, somehow, God's growing edge, or part of it? God’s hands?

But, oh! it was lovely Monday morning. The stillness. The simplicity. The muffled slowing down of the world.

They flowed with strength and steady pace through the heart of the village and together, they rolled on towards the Sea…

Over the past week I stumbled across three short pieces of writing in different places. And noticed a few things that made me ponder...

It was like taking a journey together, like discovering a new planet just for us, yet feeling safe and cozy, as if we were in a nest.

I love words so much sometimes I just want to eat them! Plus sitting on a dictionary...

"If stories come to you, care for them....learn to give them away where they are needed. Sometimes a person needs a story more than food."