The grebe builds its nest
in a compost heap,
a basket of dead and rotting plants
sending up ripples of heat
to warm the eggs.
My mother might not have known this
when she built a compost pile
below our rabbit hutch. Continue reading
The grebe builds its nest
in a compost heap,
a basket of dead and rotting plants
sending up ripples of heat
to warm the eggs.
My mother might not have known this
when she built a compost pile
below our rabbit hutch. Continue reading
I’ve never tried that chocolate angel food recipe
but each time I see it in my cookbook
I think of you
trailing Grandma Fay around her kitchen
writing down her every move
forcing her to measure ingredients
she could gauge by sight or feel
getting in her way
so you could replicate her result
transform the mediocrity of your own first effort
(the mediocrity of her written recipe)
into the mouthmelt you knew this cake to be. Continue reading
The scent of you still lingers on your pillow.
(I cannot bear to wash the case.)
The dog still sits by the door before dinner time,
ears up, eyes sparkling, mouth agape,
listening for the jingle of car keys
to tell her you’re home.
And I still remember that evening
when we walked out to the far end of the pier
and watched the sun go down,
the sky grow dark,
and a galaxy of stars emerge so bright
they could have lit our path home
even without the firefly show that accompanied them. Continue reading
A spring breeze rustles the trees
shooshes across my neck
as a solitary songbird
dee-da-das from afar.
The sun pokes a morning face through tree limbs,
breathing hello at me
just as my old dog did minutes ago,
filling my nostrils
with her warm doggy scent,
the universe’s most gentle wake-up call. Continue reading
In poetry I find beauty
In poetry I find peace
In poetry I find an antidote to daily life
an antidote to noise
an antidote to chaos
an antidote to cruelty and to uncaring
and to thinking about the unspeakable horrors people commit Continue reading
The shoreline meanders and we with it
skimming rocks across the sleepy water,
murmuring to each other,
our voices hushed as we watch
for the shimmery flash
of fish surfacing
to snatch an evening meal.
In the distance a solitary fisherman
casts off,
the silken thread from his reel
spinning out into the lake,
offering a too-easy dinner
for any fish lazy or foolish enough
to accept. Continue reading