window
window
the late afternoon
light is the color
of gratitude
wouldn’t you say
as the shadows
grow longer and
the coming chill
pulls us closer
what else is there
but thank you
Peace,
Milton
window
the late afternoon
light is the color
of gratitude
wouldn’t you say
as the shadows
grow longer and
the coming chill
pulls us closer
what else is there
but thank you
Peace,
Milton
I realize I have been silent here for a couple of weeks. For a number of reasons, I have found it hard to get here. I could not let National Poetry Month pass without one more poem, however. I have been moved by this image and the story of the discovery of the landing gear…
affirmation let yes be our response to most any of life’s questions . . . not an answer as much as a declaration: yes to the chance, the hope, the opportunity, the near-miss, the adventure, the small gesture, the long shot, the promise, the possibility, the unexplainable, the failure, and even the grief: yes to…
winter wonderland I think winter gets a bad rap it gets blamed for the days getting shorter but that is autumn’s fault every day of winter is a little longer than the last yes, it’s cold but I like the cold it’s also chili and cornbread build a fire bundle up people ask if my…
ice the rain came late this afternoon actually more of a drizzle or mist just enough to coat the streets before the temperature drops below freezing which means we will wake to a coating of ice that will impair our travel and leave some of us stranded or feeling fearful I wonder if it was…
worth saying I read the screen or the page I listen to the other ones talking as though everyone is waiting for what I will have to say as if what matters is how I respond why would that be true? social media creates the illusion that life is a series of little soap boxes…
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…
These poems are beautiful, Milton. Thank you!
I love “Coming chill pulls us closer…”