How many miles did you have to go? Did you get back when it was still dark? And after bringing the horse to the barn and wading through deep snow to the farmhouse did you find yourself alone again with no one awake and the fire...
Read MorePraise the steady rainfall Praise the gray day that won’t brighten with birdsong calling me outside Praise the empty square on today’s calendar Praise the kettle’s whistle the afghan on the couch when I curl up with a cup of hot...
Read MoreMary, you were born for a reason in April, the month of rebirth where the earth shows over and over how beauty returns like birdsong from what’s long been buried tulips in all hues on long stems your brother in your son’s smile,...
Read MoreIf cow-face Jackie wanted to get married in the dead of winter, that was Jackie’s business, her bovine business, and there was an end. Mrs. Tom Collins allowed the leather pedicure chair to envelop her. She sat on it, sat in it,...
Read More“You know,” I said, “We’ve been drinking since we got off the plane, and I really don’t feel that drunk.” “Same here,” Joe answered, pausing like his mouth was still waiting on his brain. “Maybe it’s this heat.” “It’s...
Read MoreMy soft and velvety first born, I look down on you lying across my newly flattened stomach. You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. We both have washed back up from the shores of death and lie utterly spent and...
Read MoreI remember a quaint and chilly fall afternoon When the Sun was beginning to lie a little low, and I decided to go exploring with my infant daughter in my Arms. There was a strange old Shaker Barn with rotting timbers on its...
Read MoreI Watch her Weaving and Wandering Fingers Creating Beautiful and interwoven Paths of white Thread with seemingly no Beginning or End. Is this how God weaves Light and Stars into an Endless Spin of Space and Time? Universe with...
Read MoreIt is Pentecost Sunday, The Day of the Holy Spirit and The Descent of the Red Cardinal onto the Bird Feeder. His Presence Blesses our Whole Garden. He Tilts his Bright Red and Joyous Plumage like a Flame In the Noonday Sun. He...
Read MoreMy letter to Santa is taking forever. I’m pretzeled on the couch, so close to the Christmas tree I can watch the tinsel dance. One quiet puff and the shaggy silver strands flutter and twinkle. Red light, blue light, green light,...
Read MoreOf all the games I played as a child, I loved none more than one we played the first summer my family lived in a development of new houses that all looked alike. Our street had attracted families, with plenty of kids to gather...
Read MoreMy uncle Maury has been dead for close to sixty years and yet I can still picture him in my mind—at the moment he’s smoking a pipe and tapping the ashes into an ashtray on the table. My mother said on numerous occasions that he...
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