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
Sometimes life smarts – well, backward glances and forward hopes perhaps Examining – or not what it means to live a life “well lived” Striving to shoulder daily responsibilities, the shoulds, oughts, musts – while necessary – perhaps noble in some small way? Sometimes in quiet moments of reflection, it feels as if the shouldering…
Words come framed, measured, controlled – ‘I have some bad news” how else is there to say it? Bad news is always bad I answer in kind (and it is never enough) how else is there to respond? and we reflect, philosophize (chase guilt?) we are adults Long ago December my father lay, dying of…
After reaching the waterfront she settled on the old concrete bulkhead next door I at the end of the dock Maisie rested against my hip as Fox and I regarded each other from a suitable distance A few water birds passed lazily overhead but did not disturb And so we sat ignoring, and wondering about…
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
Pieces lay scattered in anger across the breakfast room floor The bowl and pair of candlesticks had been an anniversary gift from my grandfather to my grandmother – for me, only images in photographs and stories In some small way being their conservator enabled me to physically connect with them However – when the candlestick…
He didn’t brush the hair from in front of her ear as much as caress it to better display the earrings he’d given her for their anniversary Without a word his brief gesture spoke leagues about their relationship and his feelings. How is it that a cup of tea or a touch can say it…