I learned of grace from a spreading garden From faces of violet and blue Which tumbled over boulders placed in a slicing line, And told of a place for flowers, which was not beyond their reach And tried, I suppose, to keep the life in and the trodden path out But the flowers did not … Continue reading Ode to a spreading garden
can i tell you a secret? light will never leave you strange as it may seem while we wait out the inky black deep that falls no matter how bright the sun shone on our bare faces today we knew it had to end even as we strike the match to bring life … Continue reading light never leaves
And even if dawn be not ours to embrace The glow of the east not for this abject face Whatever surpasses in this twilit place I want them to know And I hope that they say That we were the ones who sang through the fight Who danced for the moon And drank the stars' … Continue reading Psyche
every now and then and you’ll find yourself in the dark whether it’s a flicker or a long-term night and you’ll wonder how moments ago you tended the sea’s beacon and today you’re fumbling for a switch and you’ll think that you ought to try to keep lighting the sea even when your fuel is … Continue reading spark of hope
"If everyone is thinking alike, then somebody isn't thinking." The Golden Way Come and walk with me, I said I’ll show you a new road A path of clear and glittering thread To take you where you’ll go The Golden Way it’s called, and I’m sure you’ll love it too On it you … Continue reading The Golden Way: A poem
Mending the frost by building a fire Hauling another storm’s snow Wrapping the littles in bundles of coat Keeping the bite from their toes Hauling up boxes, unraveling lights Wrestling a tree into place Baking and buying the gift that’s just right Extending new patience and grace Ringing bells and giving well Offering … Continue reading Winter’s Hands
3 a.m., November 14, 2015. A suburb of Paris. A piercing sound jolts me awake. It’s dark, and too early for an alarm. What is that sound? Groping around in the dark with 3 a.m. cognitive capacity, I finally find Stephen’s wailing phone. “What the…” A device locator alarm has been activated. Turning it off, … Continue reading Remembering Paris, A Year Later
The following is a short story I wrote in 2014 for one of my classes in Scotland. Partial credit is to be given to the tree across the street from our old house on Oxford Avenue. Robert stood at the edge of the weathered porch and squinted at the large oak tree in the barren … Continue reading Death of an Oak