Thinking on the page

Sandpiper Dance

/ jill autrey dorman

The little seabird with twigs for legs hurries up and back about three feet.  Waves rolls seaward and the Sandpipers skirmishes lighting fast to peck a little minnow and hurries back …the water never once touches her. It is comical, this dance of the Piper. Her spindle like legs never seems to tire…

This is the beauty that fills my mind.  ” everything that is created was created by Jesus. By him all things made above the earth, below the earth, on land, and in the sea. Everything visible and invisible were made by him for his pleasure. Jesus hold all things together and in him all things live and move and have their being.

Even the Sandpipers Dance is for Him.

Photo by Georg Wietschorke

    Snapshot Dreams

    / jill autrey dorman
    Photo by Tina Nord

    Pages of snap shots in my dreams.


    I rise early in the morning a few seconds post dawn. The melted butterscotch sky is streaked with baby blue and left over indigo. A nice squall blew up last night and the sand has no footprints in it. The sand dunes are pregnant with sea oats. The oats, my favorite tropical grass, sway charmingly in the breeze and quietly support the island with their roots. The large oats smell like salt and theirs stalks tall and sleek weave into grass.


    Just in a snap spot of my dreams I take off running from shore as the rain begins. I dash and grab my laundry on the clothes line.. At that moment your camera just happened to find my face and you say,” your eyes are blue- gray, like seawater.” I close my eyes. When I open them you are gone.
    Shutter stop.

    The Knockout Punch

    / jill autrey dorman
    Photo by Musa Ortau00e7

    The knockout punch…

    I have eaten nothing in three days.

    The pain in my chest is a slow agony.

    I have no memory of warmth with others of my kind.

    Although fading, my longing drives my soul forward.

    A primal memory of Joy beats like a captured bird in my brain.

    Yet somehow I know Him and see the full Glory of God.

    So she called the name of the Lord who spoke to her, “You are a God of seeing,” for she said, “Truly here I have seen him who looks after me. Genesis 16:13

    Watercolor Garden

    / jill autrey dorman

    Camellias are blooming stout and ruffled in oh so many rosy shades of pinks!

    Azalea bushes lay a thick carpet for Gulf summer heat and rain.

    The golden-green sea oats weave and spin the island’s core in an endless ballet.

    All the while, the Faithful Morning Glories, pink and yellow, vine along the sand like a hodgepodge of holiday lights.

    The salt sits thick upon my skin and hair.

    I am baptized in a wave and the horizon melts into carnival colors of pulled taffy in my Watercolor Garden.

    When Trials Come…

    / jill autrey dorman

    When hardship comes your way, will you tell yourself it’s a tool of God’s grace and a sign of his love, or will you give in to doubting his goodness? Paul Tripp

    Photo by James Wheeler

    When the road seems shorter than before.

    Wherever you turn there is no open door.

    Your life is in convulsions like vomit on the floor.

    All the paperwork of your life is yellowed and rotted.

    Is the God’s grace of love or is it cruel?

    Who do you worship and let rule you?

    Will you head for the hills of Babylon?

    Look for ways to numb your sorrow?

    Will you turn to the One who made you?

    Will you cry out and hang on to your pew?

    Will you doubt God’s goodness in the dross?

    Will you walk away or toward the cross?

    Riding on the Wing of a Plane

    / jill autrey dorman

    Photo by Mark Neal

    Blackbird screaming in the top of a tree, the Sun goes passing by.

    A full moon shines at the crossing in the road exposing all the lies.

    Good girl hiding in the alley in the night, she’s praying no one sees.

    Looking for love in the darkness, now alone, it’ll bring you to your knees.

    Our children are riding on the wing of a plane, the want to try to die.

    Looking for peace from pain in their lives, they’d rather crash then try.

    Poor boy in hell at the top of a bridge, he’s praying he can flying.

    He’s looking for love in the water down below, it wasn’t in his daddy’s eyes.

    Can this bring us around or does history say we lose,?

    Does the Cross mean no one goes to Hell or do we have to choose?

    Hope for today and tomorrow in not gone, nor does it fall asleep.

    Jesus is waiting for us to seek His face and only there will we find peace.

    High Desert Winter

    / jill autrey dorman

    Photo by Adriatik Rudari

    High desert winter.

    White-out blizzard coming soon.

    Laura Nyro on my stereo.

    She warns me of the heartache coming on.

    Wood burning stove keeps me warm.

    Laura’s voice does the rest.

    We got the blues and got it bad.

    Wrapped in my Navaho blanket

    Still shivering to my soul.

    Henry Bridge (We Belong to the Day)

    / jill autrey dorman

    Photo by iPhone Photography

    Sitting on the Henry Bridge watching the river run.

    A little boy is skipping river rocks beneath the glitter of the Sun.

    Autumn breezes gold and ruby red decorate the beaver’s dam.

    A little girl hold her baby doll making sweet life plans.

    We belong to the day free to be living in a symphony.

    Walking of of the night no more darkness to see.

    We belong to the day.

    No sorrow left to see.

    We belong to the day.