the first poem
I learned was
for my father
and was the first
poem he ever learned:
missing
has anybody seen my mouse?
I opened his box for just a minute
just to make sure he was really in it
and while I was looking he jumped outside
I tried to catch him, I tried, I tried . . .
I have spent the day
reciting the lines
of my life
moving from memory
hoping to find
something to ease
the empty space
the heavy space
the palpable absence
and all I can muster is
missing
Peace,
Milton
It’s getting down to crunch time in the baseball season, which means it doesn’t take much for my sermon to intersect with the Red Sox. Here’s what I said on Sunday. ________________________________ In the fall of 2004, I was the Associate Pastor of the First Congregational Church of
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Last week’s lectionary passage is one of my favorites. Here’s what I had to say on Sunday. __________________________ Right after Ginger and I got back from our trip to Durham last month, we noticed a plant that had sprung up along our back fence line. It was not there
I think this is the first time that thinking about prayer took me to both Robert Frost and ice hockey. Here’s my sermon for this week. ____________________________ My twelfth grade English teacher Ms. Morse is responsible, in part, for my love of poetry—particularly the poems of Robert Frost. When