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Be Grateful (Estimation)

“Be grateful for what you have!”
and its companions
“at least you’re alive”
“it could be worse”,
“someone else would love
to be in your shoes”,
would produce more healing
if the pronoun were changed.

2500 Ribbons (Memory)

2500 Prayer Ribbons (Memory)

Vice President Biden visited Provincetown, Massachusetts this week, and spoke of the courage of the LGBT community. The twenty-five-hundred prayer ribbons fluttering in front of the Provincetown Library on the 25th anniversary of the annual Swim for Life event, spoke more effectively, of something much larger than one special interest …

Convertible Night Sky (Memory)

Convertible Night Sky (Memory) I’m wearing silk and denim, freshly showered, platform wedge shoes, camera in my lap.  My husband smells like summer, sports a happy Tommy Bahama shirt and a baseball cap, and guides the car smoothly home.  It’s date night and we are high on Chris Smither, laughter …

Common Threads (Imagination)

Common Threads (Common Sense) I planted these flowers together (Echinacea purpurea ‘Razzmatazz’ and Geranium sanguineum ‘Rozanne’) because they share two common elements. The first element? That raspberry color so obvious in Razzmatazz, and so delicate in Rozanne.  The second? A slightly twisting curl. Again, showy in the reflexed petals of …

I’m Doing It! (Memory)

I’m Doing It, Grandma! (Memory) Behind him, a bluegrass band plays foot-stomping, singable songs. Loudly. The assembled townsfolk sing along, eat, laugh, politick and enjoy family time. He doesn’t notice. He dips the giant wand into the tray of bubble mixture, and waves the wand frantically. Nothing happens. Repeats. Nothing …

Signs of Love (Imagination)

Love isn’t pretty. It startles you in the nightgrabs you by the throatempties your soulleaves youprayingin the dark silencea primordial light washes the floor,raises your edges: the weave of the bedspread,your hand, and its pop-top scar, tiny white hairs, two sun spots, creases, veins,one broken half-polished nail, the pencil callous on your middle finger, every lie you’ve …

Father’s Day (Common Sense)

Vanilla Grill (Common Sense) Vanilla-scented astilbe crowds the rusted grill.  Its doors still glide open with a smart “snick”. Spiders and leaves fill the void around the cold propane tank. I raise the silent lid, turn the knob, click-click-click, and a blue flame whooshes just short of my face, settles …