this particular tuesday it snowed all day but nothing stuck is a good description of this particular tuesday afternoon or so I thought until I realized it was wednesday and as I turned to make my way back home I wondered why fogelberg could sing about the snow turning into rain and make it worthy…
worn and wounded in my notes I found this phrase what is worn is not always wounded I’ve been staring at it for some time now trying to decide if I agree (and I think I wrote it) I think I was thinking about library lions whose tails are worn by the affectionate of book…
I started playing with words others have written that have become inscribed on my life for one reason or another. It was a nice distraction as I prepare for my surgery on Wednesday and turned out to be fun as well. index of first lines I pulled into Nazareth was feeling ‘bout half past dead…
tiny waltz and somehow a day worth bottling has slipped into night without leaving words to describe how it felt and I have spent far too long staring at a screen as though the sheer silence of sitting would shape my sentences and I have deleted far more than I have saved but that’s true…
how are you? is the throwaway question in need of redemption when asked it should be followed by a pregnant pause the questioner willing to be the midwife we have let ourselves settle for hit and run compassion for lots of reasons we mean well we want to know –I’ve got to take this i…
harvest moon I posted a picture of the moonrise over Long Island Sound and a friend in Arkansas wrote, “It was really bright at our house too!” Another friend in Carolina told me she is talking to a group in Australia who feed hungry people about ways she can help I have one more from…
Because our church was built in the early 1800s and is full of windows that open, we have had some kind of in person worship for about a year. We have limited the number attending, kept all the windows open (regardless of temperature), done contact tracing, made sure everyone was masked and distanced, and done…
August 3 marks eight years since my father died. These are the words that found me as I stack up the stones once again. namesake the name was used when you gave it to me accompanied by a number I was the third though we were only two and you already knew the grief of…
supermarket finds it’s the periodic experience of lostness in the supermarket when I turn down the baking aisle to find it is filled with crackers my points of reference have been relegated to the rubbish heap if I want to find food I will have to learn a list of new addresses they do it…
one step removed the advantage of living through holy week after the fact is we know what is coming we read the events as connected sequence if this then that we have turned the unexpected into ritual meaningful repetition but still repetition we know what’s coming but the rituals seem empty because of the scares…