Buying Windmills
Buying Windmills When they started pulling tainted milk products I thought Oh crap, it's time to stop with the chocolate. But then, thinking further, I thought it's only a little milk and what about dark... More »
Buying Windmills When they started pulling tainted milk products I thought Oh crap, it's time to stop with the chocolate. But then, thinking further, I thought it's only a little milk and what about dark... More »
JULY WIND Something pattered against the screen. The wind, I thought, rattling its bars, or a sudden evening shower. I saw nothing, so continued doing nothing. Then, the nothing became a bat fluttering to the... More »
On the eve of our national holiday of independence, a classic poem to remember the days when things were happening in that regard (courtesy of the Academy of America Poets ): Paul Revere's Ride ... More »
JUNE RAIN The night is quiet except for rain sussurating the meadow’s grass. Rain taps the bending blades, loosing scents of soil, of summer. Through the window I watch the gray clouds, the dimness soaking... More »
THE PLACE WHERE LOVE LIVES In this place there is a small wind. It rearranges dry leaves and covers and uncovers objects resting in sand. The sun is hot but there is shade. In the... More »
The season for this poem has passed, but it helps to remember the winter when the summer offers its warmth. MARCH ASH Ten below and two in the morning. I stir the ashes in the... More »
JUNE RAIN The night is quiet except for rain sussurating the meadow’s grass. Rain taps the bending blades, loosing scents of soil, of summer. Through the window I watch the gray clouds, the dimness soaking... More »
THE LETTER I receive a letter telling me I will receive a letter. It wears a strange stamp, a cryptic return address. The next day I receive a letter telling me I will receive a... More »
THESE GRANDFATHERS You read me your first poem: your grandfather dying, your mother crying; the night cold, the sky big, the moon sharp and mean. Those first words were a blanket; your only warmth except... More »
From www.poets.org : Hum by Ann Lauterbach The days are beautiful The days are beautiful. I know what days are. The other is weather. I know what weather is. The days are beautiful.... More »