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 nested…

penultimate it was the night before though I suppose I could say it was the last night but that is not how I’ve ever thought of it nothing was ending everything was beginning we gathered everyone we could think of in the fellowship hall to tell stories eat barbecue and mark the moment nothing was…

discovery the longer I live the more I find I have yet to walk where there are no footprints columbus didn’t discover anything he only became aware of what he did not know Peace, Milton

practice I spent the evening singing harmony with a pick-up gospel choir— songs I didn’t know parts I didn’t know offering me the gentle reminder that listening comes first, then you sing. Peace, Milton

zacchaeus when I think of the tiny tax collector clinging to the tree waiting for Jesus to pass by I imagine my father there a short man with low self-esteem willing to go out on a limb hoping love would call him by name somehow my mother is there too taking Jesus by the arm…

Last night, Ginger and I got to go to the Red Sox game, thanks to our friends Fez and Maggie. It was our first time in the park in five years. As I reflected on the train ride back today, I channelled Robert Frost. Stopping by Fenway on a Chilly Evening Whose house this is…

A pilgrimage is a journey set in a story. — Paul Elie, interview for On Being (as best I can remember the quote) narrative I love to tell the story says the old hymn— not I love to tell the doctrine; we do well to read in the beginning as another way of saying once…

prine time the first time I saw John Prine we were both much younger he sang fish and whistle—you forgive us and we’ll forgive you—and then the one about the angel that I learned too the last time I saw him was the night before his cancer had returned and he sang for almost three…

workout I started the day by going to the gym (things I rarely write for 400, Alex), wishing the process of lessening my presence on the planet did not involve rooms with pumped up jams and rows of televisions blasting morning shows. I came prepared with headphones and the podcast of a poet—Mary Oliver, and…

I spent the first ten days of April back in Durham, doing some book things, some cookies business, and seeing good friends in a place that feels like home to me. In the process, I haven’t kept my promises to write each day during April. Here is my defense. wordless I know I’ve been silent,…