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 a friend who
took my words about
sandcastles to heart
that love is what lasts
“Time to deliver a pie.”
If there were room
in this poem for
you to write back
you would have
stories to tell
wouldn’t you?
Peace,
Milton
Mom had a plumber and a carpet cleaner come through in the past couple months. Both did the same thing when she mentioned Dad had passed: refused a check. Wouldn’t hear of taking payment.
They both left with cookies and jars of preserves, though.
The man who played piano at the memorial service also wouldn’t take anything from me. So they got gifted a grocery cash card + wine gift certificate.
“At times our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person.” – Dr. Schweitzer
And so it goes…
I love Jeff’s (no the other one) response. Oh, are there stories to tell! Good friends moving away to another state to live with, and be cared for, their children. Losses of congregational leaders, increased health needs of aging—-ourselves and our friends’—-a sense of losing the control we never had in the first place. These all sound so sad. But when the family physician was examining the other day, he just chucked and said, “I love hearing a New England accent.” A spark from another person.
Have another good day, Milton.