Heads bowed in silence, Meditation. The glow of a device and all its glory: Worshipful attention to the technological powers.
Benjamin, four years old, has tears in his eyes. On his plate, a waffle. And on his brother’s, an entire box of blueberries.
The riotous raccoons rifled through the plums, They would have eaten more, had they thumbs. The slugs digested while the raccoons held a wake: Good-bye little plums, sweet as cake.
My son, I am your father Joshua-Joel Caleb. Welcome to our world, a world full of danger and shelter, pain and pleasure, sorrow and joy. Today you join your mother and I in a proud tradition of teachers and pastors, sailors and soldiers, scientists and engineers, artists and musicians. Your mother and I conceived you […]
Three clouds keep watch above a hill as the sun leans into the west. Brittle leaves of a dry August clatter in the gutter as a wind drives them down the street. The ochre smoke of July cleared some time ago, displaced by laughter and bicycle chases on the playground. Apples striped red and white […]