It’s us we dust not some distant rabbit fluff or forgotten flake of stranger. Our very mitochondria’s cast off about the sofa, table, chair our entire lair’s alive with microscopic leavings. It’s our breadcrumb trail back to time remembered or forgot. Small bits of days from childhood – nights of watching tiny satellites pass overhead-… Read More DUSTING
STILL Five a.m. The old house is still but for the hum of interstate. My ancient Scottie drowses on the bed. The puppy rests on pillows at its head. Elsa sleeps, blanket in hand, upstairs in her four poster. Her parents down the hall sleep on foam. The Airedale and poodle, little dog and big… Read More STILL
The way the light falls into my bathroom each morning in summer is known to me deeply like my name. I know it better than how to grow old retire or navigate social security. Its soft presence from the east, gently, predictably lifts me into the day. It’s only absent in storm but then still… Read More KNOWING THE LIGHT
No laughter resonates like that of women beyond need of make-up and reach of girdles. Ladies for whom wrinkles rank in importance well below the dog’s recovery from Lyme disease and driving the neighbor to dialysis. No humor is quite so funny as old friends’ jibes about each other’s foibles and failings or jests about… Read More LONG LAUGHTER
Father would quiz me at the dinner table on my academic failings. “What’s the capital of Wisconsin?” he’d inquire as I mixed peas into my mashed potatoes. “Where’s Patagonia?” he’d demand as I twirled spaghetti onto my fork. “Spell squirrel.” he’d order as I lifted a forkful of pot roast to my lips. My mind… Read More SPELLING LESSONS
Midnight wings unfurl into updrafts of spirit. Does seed fear the ground? Waves the sea? A dog barks in a mountain village as color falls from treasured face. What’s the weight of a breath? The heft of a sigh? A husk drops to the ground to rattle and roll down the hedgerow. In their earthen… Read More PASSAGES
Morning in the nail shop, two Vietnamese women and I hear a man’s voice drawl “I want a pedicure, that’s all.” Men don’t enter here, this world of polish, lotion – free of fear. Perhaps we misheard – he repeats it slow “A pedicure, please, nothing more.” We avoid each other’s eyes as he climbs… Read More PEDICURE
She fell like seed on good ground – giving herself as final gift to land she’d walked and worked for years. Leaving stories, laughter, tears, memories of forthright speech the love of liberty – her fierce, unyielding heart, flying free. … Read More SHEPHERDESS
Without leathers, he’s but a man Irish face, tan, thick waist. But garbed in medals, head-rag, boots, he’s Genghis, Grant, Hannibal – thunder rolling on a Harley. Still a warrior 40 years on jungles long gone – no Cong to fight, he defends in statehouse, hospital, VA his band – most dead by 64 –… Read More WARRIOR
Hair like liquid onyx falls past her face while she works over the fingers of her customers. Her skill is hypnotic to watch as deftly she forms each perfect nail then paints it like fine china only swiftly. This is commerce, not art. Day in, day out, she breathes dusty air through a white mask,… Read More HARD GRACE
A WELL TRAVELED HEART 