We stood in a circlein the sunshine on thepatio where we had wavedpalm fronds barely an hourbefore; now we were sharingbread and wine, baskingin the brilliant spring shine,our solemn ritual exposed,on purpose, made public,taken outdoors, alive;our ministers in stolesand sunglasses. The future’s so sacred,we gotta wear shades. Peace,Milton
Time like an ever-rolling streambears all its sons away;They fly forgotten as a dreamdies at the opening day.(Isaac Watts) Let’s go Red Sox! Peace,Milton P. S. — and of course, Opening Day has been postponed due to inclement weather; after all, it is April in Boston.
I have great news: my friend, Nathan Brown, won the 2009 Oklahoma Book Award for Poetry with his latest book, Two Tables Over. I know. The sentence begs a couple of questions: They have poets in Oklahoma? They give them awards? The answer to both questions is yes. Poetry does come out of Oklahoma, and…
I dug a grave today. It was a first for me. The call came early this morning from church friends Tracy and Robin saying their beloved beagle, Violet, was going to be put to sleep. Ginger was up and out of the house in minutes. About a half hour later she called and asked me…
Ginger and I have spent the day around the house getting it ready for our new housemate and dear friend, Cherry, who has packed up the plans in her car and is leaving Boston to come and live with us here in the Bull City. In the process of our cleaning, I came across Congregational…
Somewhere in the middle of the afternoon today, I found what I thought would be the opening lines to a poem for my post: when they ask how you’re doingsay something other than tired The line came to me because of how tired I felt and I wished for the wherewithal to say something beyond…
On nights like tonightwhen I come home tiredand try to write, onlyto have my little dog begin bouncing her ballon my feet, begging meto choose her over words,I think about monks and those who cloisterthemselves to meditate,yes, and to write, to getcloser to God, seeing isolation as the way tomake meaning of life.I write in…
By the time most of you read this (actually, by the time I finish writing), it will be April, whose first week holds a sort of harmonic convergence for me. The First of April marks the beginning of National Poetry Month (National GeekFest, as Ginger lovingly calls it); this weekend brings the NCAA Basketball Tournaments…
I would like to sayat the end of the daythat I still had some playbut that would be (somewhat) lying I would like to revealall the things that I feelyou know – keeping it realbut that would be (mostly) sighing So I’m going to bedwith much left unsaidand though that rhymes with deadI intend to…
My friend Gordon has been telling the story of his church in San Antonio at his blog at at the High Calling website. Part of the story is about the pastor who preceded him — a friend of many of us – who was amazingly gifted at offering grace to others that he was not…