between noon and three I sit quietly I waited for words but they chose to be quiet what is there to say? Peace, Milton

I was looking for a poem to post the other day and found one titled “There, there, grieving.” I remember a friend whose father died many years before mine recalling a trip to a mall soon after his funeral where she was overwhelmed by the fact that everyone was acting like it was a normal…

notes from the road we drove through a fog this morning so thick we couldn’t see New Haven from the highway though we could see the road in front of us at least far enough to keep moving on hold that thought The particles of light in sky and sea that look blue on the…

ship’s log it seems like a lifetime ago that we stood on the deck of the USS Constitution a still-commissioned vessel 
named for our defining document to learn much of it had been replaced because it was still considered active—a work in progress only in museums does it matter that nothing changes because sameness is…

march madness when I got to the tiny house I was greeted by Elsa and Lily they are backyard chickens whose tinier house is next to mine they did not invite me in but saw to it that I found my place this morning they were busy as I stepped out to greet my host…

I am fortunate to be driving across Texas just as the bluebonnets are blooming. Here’s where they took me. among the wildflowers the old pickup rolled to a stop on the shoulder of the two-lane road the gravel spoke underneath the worn boots of the workmen who walked to the front of the truck that…

the space between our sufferings this is one of those nights when the day has been long and I’m looking for words in a blank book of an evening because I promised I would have something to say I promised to meet you here I have riffled through the pages of my memory hoping a…

I opened my laptop this evening to the news that W. S. Merwin died yesterday. He was a prolific and powerful poet whose words have left their mark on my life. I am going to use this page to share some of those with you. My first introduction to him was “For the Anniversary of…

to mourn is to mark . . . the moment when the world was ripped open, torn asunder and then not to hurry on the palpable absence of those taken—not lost, but stolen— and then wrap our arms around it the seduction of fear that disguises itself as revenge or even righteous indignation that violence…

evensong these are the days when dusk feels indecisive, reluctant to bring the day to an end yet holding on for a few minutes more each evening, as though trying to make room for just one more thing. I love the long reach of the light, the fading fire that fills the horizon but I…