“Look at the beautiful, green buds!” she exclaimed.
“I worry for them. It’s only February,” he replied.
Now, it’s nearly April and the leaves are unfurling and stretching to the sun.
He’s not here to see that and yet it’s happening all the same.
Faith trumps worry.
My daughter, Gigi, beholding the altar at her new school I have always been a highly sensitive person. I have often sensed things–the things you feel with your sixth sense–and often haven’t known what to do with those feelings. As I child, my perceptions were often “hushed up” by my parents or others (common when…
an old woman in a scarf rocks a baby back and forth in the sunlight a man works a crossword sneaking glances at the pretty baristas Dolly serenades us with her trilling vibrato the steel guitar adding a pinch of melancholy your morning kisses linger on my lips like the scent of flowers everything feels…
It is such a misguided notion to believe there is any other place to be but this one– the sweet smell of rain (the droplets falling on the very paper on which I was writing this), surrounded by poetry. A church bell chimes nearby and machines whirrrrrr all around me. The cacophony of seagulls crying…
