poetry
items may have shifted during flight getting from one place to another quickly takes a lot of time what began as a seven hour journey has turned into ten and I am floating in the endless transition of an airport lounge packed with others who are not yet where they
poetry
death is not far away I have lived long enough to learn that those who have died don’t go anywhere at least not to some land far beyond the skies like I was taught to sing about what I mean is wherever they go is not above or below
poetry
time travelers we shared a table under the art tent then a table next to the pizza truck at the sunday school saturday kickoff I remembered her even though I had not seen her in three summers I didn’t recognize her I said to her father she’s four
poetry
The days have been full and my mind and heat have been quiet, so Went back through words I have written before and found this poem in a Long Ago File that spoke to me tonight. I hope it finds you as well. volcano do you remember the grade when
poetry
climate: change in the early days of language we only had words for storms weather meant trouble until some began to realize that a clear sky or a gentle breeze meant something as well but they talked about it the way they talked about time in Latin, Polish, Gaelic, and
poetry
I have been away from the blog because we have been traveling, finally getting to take a trip that was supposed to be a part of Ginger’s sabbatical in 2020. The focus of the trip is an eight day retreat with Gareth Higgins and Kathleen Norris in and around
poetry
lizzy! she told us she spells her name with an exclamation point by the way she dances and flails her tail any time we call her she is an off-the-chart extrovert (I should know) who wants to meet everyone she sees except the riddle of small children most mornings after
poetry
Last week as Ginger and I walked around the Guilford Green, I noticed the flag was at half mast. I wondered out loud who it was for, in part because I had not paid attention to the news for a day or two, but also because the recent spate of
poetry
get the door It’s that thing about a door closing and God opening a window that gets me sometimes I get the idea It gives me some hope but on this day when a door is closing I’m not ready to look for or out a window I’
poetry
two more bagels I think it was the end of the first week when I stopped at the corner of Madison and East 35th Street to get a bagel cinnamon raisin on way to my new job almost six years ago not long after, the man in the stainless steel
lenten journal
play ball I served a church outside of Boston back when a curse was still a curse and every year before Opening Day Wally would stand and read aloud Time, like an ever-rolling stream, Bears all its sons away; They fly forgotten, as a dream Dies at the opening day.
lenten journal
it’s not your fault a friend who grew up in an abusive home recalls a moment in a mall store when she was young and her mother was berating her and a stranger knelt down and looked her in the eye “this is not your fault” she said and