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
I look forward to April 1 for a far geekier reason than pulling pranks: it is the beginning of National Poetry Month. As life would have it, today felt like a poem, full of words and imagery and resonance, which was the word that kept coming to mind. Ginger and I had a lunch date…
We’ve got tickets for an online concert and conversation between Lyle Lovett and Vince Gill tonight. We had seen him at least once every year of our marriage until the pandemic killed live music. to be in the room it was early February long ago a first date in an ice storm my Tercel rose…
love is the drum that beats in our bones even in our broken melodies of grief our symphonies of sorrow and sadness relentless resonance in the late night club of all that could have been the hope of the high hat the syncopation of surprise the gentle jazz of joy put your hands together love…
I have offered music posts most every Advent that I have been writing, so I thought I would keep up the tradition here in the middle of the season. These are not Christmas songs, or specifically Advent songs, but they are songs that speak to me in these days, songs that offer cold comfort. Most…
trash talking after staying up late to watch the ball drop and listen to musicians I didn’t recognize we did not need fireworks lightning lit up the sky and the rain fell like it was washing the world so far this morning I have fed pups drank coffee done Wordle (NERVE) and written these words…
spring training south of here the boys of summer are planting the seeds of spring, thawing out their throwing arms, weeding out errors, practicing and pitching, stealing a little extra daylight each evening before the month is out they will teach us, again, how to tell time, how to make a moment last forever, how…
i’m listening
Thanks.
Milton, you are firing on all pins, my friend…
(As I tell my mom–who is an incredible artist at 80–You know? If you keep practicing…)
Thanks, Nathan. Here’s to practicing.
Peace
Milton