Hidden Hut of Grace

Give me a cabin in the pines where the mourning dove calls. A creek that

runs through ancient pines and forgiveness in its falls. A forest wrapped around my door.

Birds singing in the trees. Good soil and nothing more, the wind,

the sun, the bees. I want a hidden hut, a quiet place,

where twelve true friends can pray. With candles lit and simple grace, we'll live another

way. No boasting, no bitter words to say, just bread and

light and time. A hidden hut where we can stay and leave the

world behind. Facing south to catch the sun, a garden growing