Funny
isn’t it
how late afternoon is also
early evening
and is (just as surely)
– night –
depending on the time of year
In the
scrapbook of my
memory
I will always
see the two of you
in a summer’s late afternoon
He settled
on the top step
of your Cathedral Street front porch
you – ever so slightly resting against his shoulder
Who
knows what story
you were browsing in the day’s news
Young and very much in love I’d often be overcome by emotion unable to express the depth and breadth of all that was swirling inside Sometimes finding words – though not the right ones I stumbled over them all the reasonable response rarely emerged Less than articulate and reduced to tears (happy tears, sad tears…
August hangs heavy in the air uncomfortably cloaking all who venture outside August forced open its eyes later this morning than yesterday labored breathing hissing over soon ssooooon (I found a cicada lying silent in the street on my morning walk today) What happened to May’s sweet promise the glittering dance of June July’s sultry…
Tumbled by the ocean through a sea of sand sharp edges begin to break Larger surfaces slowly acquire a brushed satin appearance trapping the light inside and the edges finally wash smooth Not unlike a cherished memory locked in the heart and softened by time
You are too gracious and elegant to ask I know that but simply put, we are dog people for forty years and more yes, yes there was the occasional unwilling kitten dragged home That night – you were the slimmest of shadows weaving among us in the mist neighbors banded together at nightfall laughing with…
The snow must have begun while we were sleeping, for outside the sheerest of veils already stretched from Heaven to earth. Trees and fences softened, and land blurred into water – barely visible geese passed overhead, merged with the mist and disappeared – all, silently and leaving no print on the ground. Yet still they…
I love the sense of freedom and quiet the sights sounds and smells that I experience on an early morning walk Rabbits silently lope from spot to spot in search of breakfast an old dog greets us from well within his castle gates Occasionally someone else is also up and walking usually (like me) with…