• grief

    tell me a story

    by  • September 13, 2016 • family, grief, poetry • 7 Comments

    It’s a little after sunrise, an early autumn morning— a chill of hope in the air; the sunrise is the color of stories. Today is your birthday. I’m still keeping count though you are no longer celebrating: eighty-eight. I live in a house you never visited, in a town you never saw; I have...

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    quiet time

    by  • September 3, 2016 • change, grief, hope, poetry • 8 Comments

    I have been quiet for a long time, I know. One of these things I learned about myself is I grew weary of feeling I needed to respond to the issues of the day—and by “needed” I mean allowing myself the luxury of thinking I had something that had to be said. I stay...

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    nature walk

    by  • April 24, 2016 • community, grief, poetry • 0 Comments

    nature walk a few days ago we started our twenty-seventh year following the path among the stones along the shore until stopped by the barrier set to  protect the nesting plovers today we spent a sunny afternoon walking down to our little harbor and then back down unfamiliar streets past people in unprotected neighborhoods as they...

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    question

    by  • April 3, 2016 • baseball, grief, poetry • 4 Comments

    question It”s Opening Day . . . (well, the Red Sox start tomorrow) I have moved from coffee shop to brewery trying to catch the metaphor. Is it as simple as the pitcher misses the strike zone, the catcher misses the tag, and I miss my mother, who has been gone half a season...

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    perspective

    by  • March 28, 2016 • easter, grief, hope, poetry • 2 Comments

    perspective the daffodils bow their heads in the early morning rain without explanation, on this day after resurrection. I am left to find resonance in both reverence of redemption and the weight of the water. the raindrops hang like tears on the window, or tiny jewels, depending on where I am. my coffee cup...

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