Author: admin

At eighteen, I had lived much less than a blink of an eye. The Earth, moon and sun were four and a half billion years old, give or take fifty or a hundred million years. I felt small and fleeting that March day when the moon...

We sicken and break; our bodies don’t work as they should. So there are surgeries and chemistries, rest and exercise, manipulation, fluids and vitamins, braces, splints and slings. Often we get better, we mend, and – as some say...

The face of a setting winter sun reflects in a nearby pond. The communion between the two is subtle and spectacular. In an instant, though, the rippled reflection is gone, as the sun drops just low enough in the sky. What’s...

Sometimes the air is as clear as tears. It happens in late January during deep cold, or after rain on a chilled October morning. Or is it that tears are as clear as a winter day? An autumn noon rinsed by creation in all its...

with my crooked-clumsy fingers: a waterfall of seed funnels from the bag down the garbage disposal, misses the inside lip of the small bin I’ll move outdoors. If I pour it in the yard, spillage will attract the squirrels, and...

time in grief passes differently five minutes can take an eternity to fill and an entire day can pass on one box of photographs I rarely know what day it is right now and how could that even matter when the light of my universe...

they say all we have is now but what if that is not enough I need my memories to sustain me in the now treasures of my past to lift me through difficult times to remind me I was loved that I am loved, still I need my dreams to...

you won’t have died, really till all of your ripples have played out… I’m grateful to be one of your ripples

as my pen touches paper and my tears spill out on the page as words I wonder to myself does anyone even want to read these tears freshly fallen from a private kind of grief that other people don’t even know and then I remember...

She washed their faces and small hands combed their hair, dressed them in their finest clothes, sat her three young children at the kitchen table while she washed and changed the baby. But it was the other baby she thought of,...

Not yet down to bones but still gone without being missed. Unnamed, unclaimed one of more anonymous residents of the soil. A found body in an obscure grave nudged in among the others laid to rest by charity. Histories without...

that tranquility I’ve cherished and now don’t know how to live with as a constant. When it was rare in stolen moments, a temporary pause I knew would end too soon, I could float away and love the drift, a disconnected interval...