…I remember you are gone and good
so my bowl and mug, so starts my day… Continue reading →
Shall I write about trees again?
Another round of people loved and lost?
Should there be a line about that time we
kissed and wept and hated and wept… Continue reading →
wrinkled with sleep I am waiting,
listening to the crescendo —
water coming to a quick boil… Continue reading →
…a stream of hungry mouths, hungry
for green, for sweetness, for that first
delicious bite of soon-summer… Continue reading →
Oh Oatmeal, oh bowl of oatmeal,
you cook up while the coffee brews
two scoops of flattened grain slide in
to just one cup boiling water Continue reading →
It all boils down to this: That all life is interrelated. We are all caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied to a single garment of destiny.
