deep roots

  This is a long and often tragic story, which I will summarize: My maternal grandfather was raised Amish. He never joined the church as an adult, but instead married my Mennonite grandmother. They had six children , but died within two years of each other when the children were little. My mother was raised

shades of gray

Here’s a poem I wrote after seeing this postcard of Georgia O’Keeffe:   Georgia O’Keeffe Looks Over Her Shoulder I’ve been absolutely terrified every moment of my life – and I’ve never let it keep me from doing a single thing I wanted to do.   Just when she thinks she’s painted all her fear,

Avid Birder

    In the US, the term “birdwatcher” has become “birder.”   It means the same thing:  a person who loves to watch birds.   I am an avid birder, though I don’t travel long distances to see rare birds.  I love to watch the ones nearby. I also love poems about birds.  I write my

Singing in Harmony

  Here’s a poem I wrote roughly 20 years ago about a childhood experience from 60 years ago: At Little Flower Camp     At Little Flower Camp in the summer of 1957, first time away from home, She’s nine, coddled. Hates how cold the cabin gets at night, hates the cold twelve stall toilets, hates

the world’s pleasure

Pablo Neruda, the Nobel Prize winning poet from Chile, wrote a book called   Odes to Common Things. Here is his Ode to the French Fry:   Ode to French Fries   by Pablo Neruda   What sizzles in boiling oil is the world’s pleasure: French fries go into the pan like the morning swan’s snowy feathers

Slapstick Comedy

Here’s a poem I wrote about 20 years ago: After Laughter   Therefore I commend mirth; so I praise laughter; after all, I turn to grinning. In the end, I prefer to chortle, to chuckle, guffaw, snort, split my sides, tears of mirth, earthy mirth, rips of laughter, tides of noise, human breath gasping. I

Opaque, thick, hot

  Here’s a poem I wrote a while ago which includes the word opaque. For those in the USA, Garrison Keillor read this one on “The Writer’s Almanac on December 9, 2016:   Strong Coffee   Strong coffee smells like a current of warm southerly air in the climate of dawn. Strong coffee gets stronger

to jolt the vacuum cleaner

Ruby-crowned Kinglet photo by R.J.Reynolds   Here are two “Antiphons” I wrote that are modeled after the antiphons of Hildegard of Bingen:     Antiphons in the style of Hildegard   O You Who made the sharp shinned hawk with red eyes rend the singing sparrows with the silent slice of death, Who fill the

The Courtyard

    I’m posting these photos as part of a conversation with the writer of the blog  “Cottage Garden Living.” This is the courtyard where I live: This  photo was taken about four years ago . Since then ,I have been planting perennials in all the bare brown places you see.   first, I transplanted

if you’re climbing out of yourself

Here’s a poem by the American poet Anne Sexton: Riding the Elevator Into the Sky    by Anne Sexton (1975) As the fireman said: Don’t book a room over the fifth floor in any hotel in New York. They have ladders that will reach further but no one will climb them. As the New York Times