when we lived by the ocean I learned to tell time by the tides (I guess I should say I couldn’t tell time a thing — or keep it) there was no second hand . . . no sense of calendar — just the giving and taking away of the beach twice a day: a…
The barrage of ice and snow that runs from Texas to New England has brought us only rain the last few days, still the heavy blanket of grey clouds, the persistent drip of the drizzle, and the still shortening daylight have been their own perfect storm for me. I have worked hard to be industrious…
The same year Nelson Mandela was released from prison — 1990 — Wendell Berry published a book of essays called What Are People For?. Not long after, John Prine released an album called The Missing Years. This week — twenty-three years later — I picked up the book at the two days after Nelson Mandela…
a week of advent has passed only tonight did I bring the boxes up from the basement so we could start hanging memories on our tree it will be tomorrow before I hang any lights in place of the dead ferns that give our old house a boo radley feel in the fall we are…
there is no such thing as silence in the calm of any quiet you can hear hearts breaking dreams dying thanks giving sadness singing hope harmonizing losses mounting faith enduring grace pervading love crashing in listen closely listen . . . for your name your name mine, too Peace, Milton
it is the morning of the next day — I have come down- stairs to the kitchen to make coffee . . . the room still smells of pork chops and laughter; the empty glasses — both wine and water — stand like a skyline on the old farm table that soaked it all in…
we walked tonight at sunset just in time to see the fading sun reach across town for an old building and bask it in the splendor of what was left undone home now my kitchen smells like that sunset full of sorrow and stories while the singer reaches for what is as true as…
forty-seven octobers ago i was eleven dad was thirty-nine and we lived in a shotgun apartment for missionaries who had come home from the field . . . I didn’t know much about america, but I loved the boston red sox though we had never been to boston in the fall and I was…
I was driving to work yesterday and saw a sign in front of one of the storefront churches that inhabit our downtown neighborhood that said, “This is the year of great grace and great growth.” The rhythm of the words, when I said them out loud so I could remember them, pulled me towards writing…
today we walked to the farmers’ market sunshine flowing like a cape some are gathering in washington to hope and dream out loud linda ronstadt said she has parkinson’s and will never sing again I watched a little boy of joy dance in the middle of the coffee shop marks three weeks since my dad…