Lionheart Canyon Studio

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Dry Bones

Dry bones, oh dry bones, weathered and whitened by the winter's cold sun. Why have we become nestled into the dead winter field, just slightly blanketed by bent fragile wheat? Where is the joy laced in sunbeams and sunflowers? Come alive, oh sweet soul, it's sad to cocoon and hide in the dry light of loneliness and barrenness. Ask for living water, come alive once again to seek the beauty we see in even the shadowy, cobwebbed spaces. Reside in a city of golden awe as the earthworm peeps from the soil when the raindrops finally begin to speckle the weathered bones. Living water, wash away the dust, breathe life and joy into our winter souls.


This short musing takes the place of my weekly Currently post, the words were knockin' on my heart and seemed important today.