Of Dirt And Sun

I am rugged and worn, like the beam stuck hearth, 

A splinter-man, I cut and dig, 

And you, my surface. 

Finger the print, time's mark upon my age and see

The acorn-me, my form and twig, 

And you, my warmth. 

I try to incarnate the me, neath dirt and root and scree, 

To dull the splinter touch, to smooth the ragged rough of me. 

For the cold taught me warmth,

The dark, how to push,

Toward the whistling light breaking through, 

Toward, upward, further, still. 

Until I crack the the black horizon 

And spill, 

Into the flooding wave of you; 

Brave for the journey, 

Strong to withstand, 

Gloried by affection, 

A holy land. 





Tim's authored four books, including the children's book Shine So Bright and the critically acclaimed Veneer: Living Deeply in a Surface Society. He studied beauty in the works of C.S. Lewis for his PhD under Alister McGrath. When he's not scratching poetry, or chasing the scholar's craft, you can find him carving up the trails of the nearest national forest on his Salsa El Mariachi 29er.

He lives in Charlotte, North Carolina with his wife and three pixie-daughters, and two acres of Great Horned Owls.