No more telling, no tales. I will read the book of dreams and see there who we are and what has been.Read more "Insurmountable"
In those days I could hardly wait for the end of June. So many moms fretting about long months without childcare, or long days without “a break,” but I had that covered. I was the childcare, and they were the break.Read more "Today"
Life is short. Forgive it. Let it go.Read more "Compassion"
She is now a dream I have – a fragile cargo, great and small, who defies in my sleep the impossibility of her own return.Read more "Things My Mother Left Behind"
…a long, brisk walk at the beaches in Toronto …Read more "Doggo"
smol kitter, indeed…Read more "Smol Kitter"
Here comes the sun…
– George Harrison.Read more "Sandor"
It’s hard to explain how a few precious things
Seem to follow throughout all our lives.
After all’s said and done I was watching my son
Sleeping there with my bear by his side…
Believe me if you can/ I’ve finally come
back to the House at Pooh Corner…
– Loggins and Messina
[Return to Pooh Corner]
Today, while the blossoms still cling to the vine,
I’ll taste your strawberries,
I’ll drink your sweet wine.
A million tomorrows will all pass away
e’er I forget all the joy that is mine today.
– Randy Sparks
Refuse again to speak.
Retain those words that, brimming your heart, have hung so long, so low, that even you cannot with certainty declare them words, or thoughts, or there at all.Read more "Drops"
Spring is for looking, not talking.Read more "Spring Writer’s Block"
The prismatic exactitude of a rainbow, the guttered dirt and leaves of spring, a heart replete with love: all these perceptions can be explained and even addressed as functions of physical laws.
But they cannot be rendered small by an infinite universe that contains but does not itself perceive them, a universe that neither knows nor cares about having brought them to be.Read more "My Gossamer Universe"
Gleaming through the chaotic grey, the geese again,
but air, this day, so thick
with fog they lift, they rise,
And then are gone like a mist-chance.Read more "A Seasonal Country"
The logical conclusion
of your first dark look
follows a classical line
from guarded greetings
and breathless sudden sightings
to the inevitable
privacy of embrace
[that cannot both be
and not be:
reductio ad absurdum].
However long ago, however dim the memory, there is no stretch of elastic time that cannot snap back to what will always be, for once having been. No anger, no flaw, no fear or wish on anyone’s part can annul, or supplant, or diminish a first deep love, a first winter – however cold and frightening, at times – or a firstborn.Read more "Hearths and Homes"
What moves at midnight
is the lateral indecision of stars
which yet strike straight.
Their vacillation a peculiar refringency:
A bending of light, through the singular elasticity
of night, into waves that shore
on the sonic nerve.Read more "Winter Midnight"