I found out this afternoon that I have angina – a cardiac condition that basically just means I have pain on exertion.
There are times, as a writer, when you have several projects started, and not many completed, and you start to wonder if this is really something you can do or if you are kidding yourself. When it gets really frustrating, you even search indeed.com for potential jobs. I am reassured today that I’m headed in […]
My oldest daughter calls me, sometimes several times a day, to tell me little things that happened to her – she got cut off in traffic, found a dollar on the sidewalk, has a job interview – they all have the same level of importance in terms of “must tell mom”. She also wears her […]
Look, let’s stop pretending that I am a person that does anything well on a daily basis. Back on April 12th I posted the fifth installment of what was supposed to be a daily poem series. I won’t get into the details, but there are quite a few things that many people might assume are […]
Four-Thirty On my way home the day he died I stopped at the store. Or the gas station, or the bank, I don’t remember now. The street corner, I remember, but I forget the business. I closed my car door, and glanced at my watch – 4:30 p.m. I wouldn’t make it home in time. […]
DIRT Beneath my Boychild’s fingernails, there is a trace of earth. Not quite enough to grow a seed, but it’s related. My manicure is also wrecked due to my love of dirt. I do have garden gloves somewhere, but I’m lazy.
QUIET There’s a kind of quiet unlike the quiet of a city. Not known by all, and not even remembered by most who knew it, until they return to it again. A city can be quiet, in its way, at night. Dogs asleep. Cars parked, and crickets sing louder than the hum of electricity. Walking […]
Today’s poem is a haiku. BURN Sparks fly from the urn. Smoke rising, carries soul words; TCOYOS night ends.
feet, bare and winter-dry, meet the mat. good morning. thighs, cold and stiff, cannot forget the herb garden. arms, stretched and open, palms face up to hold the sun. heart, quiet and focused, open wide. namaste.
Ann Patchett writes books I love to read, due in large part to the rich texture and sense of place they contain. She uses a lot of words to create the images of the scenery, the environment, the neighborhood, the people… “costuming”, as she referred to it. When I write, I find that those things […]