I walked in the Houston heat for these colorful buildings.
As the water leaves my cup, I have a brainstorm.
I promised my brother Tall Timbers.
Looking into his eyes, I wonder, “Is this the Jesus I know?”
Protruding from a brick wall, the giant, golden hand beckons me.
The secret gardens are always the best ones.
Apparently, we are all hardwired with two competing systems.
Walking through the casino, I am thinking about gambling.
The lion in front of me has no idea I’ve been stalking him.
The farmer’s market is awash in flamboyant color.
What if, this year, spring hadn’t returned?
As I leave my Manhattan hotel, I get some free advice.
I happen to glance down at just the right time.
The wind is howling outside of my Iceland hotel room.
Colors this extravagant feed my ongoing musing about hope.