I spent last weekend in my hometown. On the plane and in bed I read “The Testaments” by Margaret Atwood, which I didn’t expect to love but did. Often I was with my father, still himself and also not himself,…
Pepper and Poems
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Fall is hunting season for Pepper…
Sometimes a good dog sits in the sun and is still.
The grass in my yard crunches underfoot, yellow as straw in some places. Pepper rouses small tornadoes of dust as she chases the squirrels. Yet the trees remain mostly green heading into October – a dry green, a stubborn green…
I sat on the back patio in the late afternoon, watching the grass dry up and die in the heat and the leaves on the tulip poplar turn yellow and brown. The new dogwoods suffered too, not even six…
Try this, friends, when no one is around…
Perhaps you are up early, dear friend, as I am. Perhaps you have a moment to call your own before the day begins. I’d love to share some music and poetry and a book with you. Plus the bald eagle…
Sometimes the past reaches out and whispers words of peace. It whispers, strangely and beautifully, in my in-box. I’d love to share a poem written in 1924 by Hazel Wood, featured this week at the website Poem-A-Day.
Today’s poem is brought to you from three graveyards, a hymnal, and a free-range rooster.