One thing we can learn from flowers is how to meet one another with an open, welcoming face . . . Imagine young parents pushing strollers filled with flowers . . . Through gardens of children blooming in the last May showers . . . And an earth rejoicing in the human race . . . Recently Banned Literature, May 23, 2017 [ 749 ]
The doves were here again today. They have visited the fig tree about five times now. And the cherry trees have started to snow. Their petals are like pages, where poetry goes. March 21, 2020. Afternoon. Bring the Blossom As a child knows to scratch the ground just where the earth most needs it, love brings the blossom down to please it — love, bring the blossom, my vow […]
All smiles late yesterday afternoon, our twelve-year-old grandson told me that earlier in the day he had looked me up on the internet — I googled you were the words he used. I said, You did? That’s funny, I didn’t feel anything — at the same time realizing that from this point on I would begin to seem a little different in his eyes, as this portion of my life […]
When you see young children living and working their beautiful miracles, do you smile and say, They are something at that age, or, We are something at that age? They, or we — the difference, I think, is a great one, and tells much about you. The same might be asked of how you view those who are far ahead of you in years. Because the very young and the […]
A few days ago, a wonderful little girl named Ella came to the door and said she was helping to raise money for her middle school band, and that I could aid her in this effort by purchasing a poinsettia for fifteen dollars. It happened that I had that much cash on hand, and so I happily gave it to her and put my name and address on her growing […]
You love this mirage, this idea of yourself looking out on the world, when, all the while, the world is within you. And you love the sanctity of what you imagine is your private space, when that same space is outside you. And if what is outside is in, and what is inside is out, where are you, and what are you? Just what becomes of the who of you? […]
Wondered the child, Is God in the clouds, or are the clouds in God? And God said, That is a question I love. And the child sang low. And the child sang on. [ 504 ]
First light and fine lace — our love is a maple, my dear. Sky-Song and Maple Sky-song and maple, so-goes the riddle, summer-lap and old-toes, soft-breast and all-she-knows, you in the middle, light-glows, water-flows, night-long the bell-tolls, the dew-rose, the cradle. Recently Banned Literature, June 19, 2014 [ 422 ]
Indeed, love bids the earnest question: Can one have truly tasted a fresh, ripe strawberry and still believe in politics and war? The answer is, quite clearly, No. May 17, 2019 Haiku June With my very own eyes — a ripe strawberry picking a little girl. Poems, Slightly Used, June 18, 2009 Rainbow Ring Around the Sun Rainbow ring around the sun rain to come grandson […]
I don’t have a lofty idea of myself as something apart, say, from the workings of my innards, or the flexing of my tendons and toes as I crawl around the yard pulling weeds, while my ears are engaged in the harvest of birdsong. I once entertained the time-honored belief that I might be an entity distinct from my body, but that belief has since given way to an acceptance […]
