Someone knocked. It’s 4:30 AM. The entire local Earth is muffled by a foot of snow so even cars (should they pass by) hush by. Every creature sleeps or is silent, winged predation, or a predator’s intent. One of my cats is a small sandbag across my ankle, the nocturnal knocked out of him. The …
At a birthday party the other night. A glass of wine, a meal, a toast, easy talk, genial anecdotes, a circle of laughter, good night. Somewhere along the thread of a conversation, one of the party-goers mentioned (wistfully, patiently, perhaps resignedly) that she was wondering when she would find "Mister Right". Anyone with some measure of intimacy with their own …
Was there not a flower found its sun through simple blossoming? I thought that's how it's done ignore the driven wooden root, ignore the thorn's intent instead, invest in feminine receipt and open petals, welcome summer's heat. Was there a flower couldn't find the sun through simple blossoming? Its wooden nail is buried in the …
This weekend, 60 people gathered to celebrate the art of love – as expressed in the gentle and sweet music of Enid Ames, modern musician and composer of southern New Hampshire, and in the words of Jelalludin Rumi, b 1207 in what was then the eastern margin of the Persian Empire, and what is now …
It is wonderful to sit out the sleepless night, which the fire of anger has lit! Like watching the full moon rise over a lake, or sun ignite the ocean: a little light comes, then more and more, until a new whole landscape is revealed, in spite of yourself. In the case of rolling and turning in your covers, …
The light from the sun is everything – no reason to doubt the cultures who held it as Deity, or one of a pantheon of gods whose hand in our lives was blindingly evident. Tonight the sun filled the sky, received by the full face of its consort moon, reflected with an anthropomorphic smile through …
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.
Yesterday I received, as a gift, a book.
The bigger the world, the more human in size we find ourselves, intimate part of a Mystery so grand you cannot help but bow…
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 …