Eight inches of the whitest snow changed the landscape overnight. For those of us who revel in the New, winter is a wonderful season in New England, with a Wyeth palette and frequent face-lifts to keep the mind moving and the heart — like a child's, still a child's — smiling at the constant Christmas …
… by that she meant: I feel the hand of age upon my shoulder.
Certain roles warrant mention, and those that play them, however often in the wings, deserve to step forward and take a bow. Once upon a time there was a little girl… not the first girl nor the first time, but let us say the first this time 'round. The first First Tooth, the first one …
Tangle – Mark Schultz If you could sing the wind, your voice should wear a sighing sound, as if from distant sources you had flown, and half-way through your flight your wings were weary but not yet done. Or a whistling of time through the sieve: divided into strands that strain then stream in parallel …
Two months since I last set word to the page. Life is not lived in words, but on the path where words are collected; where, if we speak of what we have seen, the story is written either in the heart and mind of the listener, or in the eye and inner sense of the reader. …
Lately I have neither composed melody nor lyric, because music, however you follow its fragrance, requires the flower. Simple or complex, the blossom must open, the color be expressive and expressed: if that bud is all-potential, then the hand must wait for later summer, for more sun, for rain; and if the petals have stretched, …
From "cannot imagine" to "will not accept"; from "will not surrender" to "can never forget". The layers and levels we uncover in meeting this life challenge our small comforts. If we meet the surface, and draw it aside like a curtain that veils our senses, we reveal richer colors to our sight, intensify the sensation …
The back of the Canadian $10 note bears the motto "In Service of Peace", and below it, a poem. Although Lieut. Col. John McRae had been a doctor for years, and had served in the South African War, he could never dull himself to the suffering, the screams, and the blood, and had seen and …
My cats, of course, obey another set of spheres, and while I quiet into the solitude and the slightly muffled end of the day (even the blue TV glare has left the neighbor-houses, and the most convicted night birds have for the most part decided that sleep is good enough) as I write a few …
Under the gauze of midnight, where the mirrored starlight wanes boughs of the aging branches range in the city's floodlit lanes like the arms of assembled sentinels, who saluted you as you came then recruited the shadows in your wake to softly repeat your name Softly they hold your name, my love, as a breeze …
"Pois, deus virou vida, assim mesmo: virou gramado, virou ar, foi respirado, e apenas então aprendeu perder…" "Não diga." Meio-sorriso, rosto virado para que desconfiança seja oculta, perdida na sombra. "Digo, sim, querida. Digo sim. As terras foram secas, os lagos apenas buracos no pele da planeta, ocávo, esperando…" Mas não quis saber. Oferecí água; …
I picture a circle of relatives, drawn together by circumstance, from distances and activities that kept the majority mere echoes to one another, voices from the past, children's faces, simple times. There is a circle of relatives standing around a hole cut into the earth, gestures turned to ashes, words turned to dust. And in that gathering of grief, …