Author: admin

even on the darkest days of my life there is beauty to be found there too the beauty of the stranger who was working in the church across the street from the house where I was living when it got broken into when I got broken...

As I water planter after planter and watch the moisture slowly soak in, I let my mind set itself adrift. Moving between areas of shade and sunny spots, I give more where needed, yet hold off where there are signs of wilting from...

Sometimes I burn the toast. This is a good, maybe necessary thing.           Soaked in butter to soften the char,           with a dollop of jam,           a piquant twist, an occasional tart surprise           pairing well with...

          Foxes and fawns have been playing in the lily beds again. Blossoms are gone, neatly sheared, new plants uprooted, disrupting my plans.           Who’s to say this plan’s not better? As a matter of survival.          ...

We go to the mountains for healing.           I do not say           this to my children. I tell them we are going to hike up to waterfalls and down to streams.           I tell them we will fish in clear pools and swift water  ...

A warning sign came from the sun It said our hottest days are yet to come They tell us we may not survive If we don’t undo what we have done If the answer comes too late Where will all the people go? Will we be drowning in the...

Students come dressed as pirates, vampires, princesses, bumble bees, and hobos. Those that come dressed as a Playboy bunny or in a skimpy French maid costume get sent to the office, so the vice-principal can call the parents to...

Mrs. Henderson calls to tell me that her son says I don’t like him, as if this one-person popularity poll is important. She claims Trent had a nose bleed, and I didn’t let him get up to grab a Kleenex. I tell her that’s hard to...

Gerald, a seventh grader, right out of a Far Side cartoon, tells me the restroom door is locked. The entry ways to the restrooms don’t have doors, so I say show me. The door he’s been tugging on, ten feet away from his...

After the second day of the new school year, Mrs. Borchard calls me to find out why her son, Andrew, doesn’t have any homework. I tell her Wednesday was orientation. Students followed their schedules with abbreviated class...

Gold’s grace comes not from a mine, but his mind. I’m a composer’s son. Music’s 22-carat beauty and forza seed my cortex before first breath. Its gleam sings itself into the boy to be. Music teaches me about order. I thrive on...

My fingers begin to spider, slowly, calmly up the keyboard. I imagine you standing over my shoulder, white locks brushing my ear. Handel, I say, before I play your Passacaglia, I’m trying to recall my composer father’s version,...