His name is Paul, my maternal grandfather that is, but everyone just calls him Pop. I’ve asked my mother a hundred times where his nickname comes from, hoping that maybe once, just by chance, her encrusted neurons would finally make the connection. But, alas, the origin of the name, Pop, is lost history, or … More Eating Dandelions (unpolished)
I’ve never doubted sowing seeds that is, since learned that, no, not all of them will make it, place two or three in every hole. I’m not afraid when nothing comes up. It’s when things work, when choosing which one will grow, which others will go, knowing There is terrible hardship ahead, nothing but sweating, … More When it Works
I know jumping is bad for the knees, harder on the body as we get older, but I never realized that this little insect, this pest, as it leaps from leaf to leaf, to whatever it decides or desires, is the thing killing my garden. I’ve wondered once before what’ll stress a plant to the … More Leafhopper
Wasn’t the dresser just here? And the pictures, had they come off their frames? Glanced to find the windows no longer open, only a dark film stretched where they used to be. Spoke, “wait,” to the hollow room to listen, but only felt a harsh gust rush through under my feet. The wind ran across … More day dream
Oh, you’re too young. Try another style, some other fashion. You know, because you look old in that. Try something else on. That old wardrobe will become second hand, and loved by someone else, after all. Or maybe it’ll stay in the closet, occasionally you’ll think to wear it– it was your favorite once– … More Checking Out (Relationships)
You cannot turn around ten years later with an answer, cannot bring the flavors of nostalgia back to your lips even with the sweetest of salt For a time, I felt an affinity for the overlooked dull colors of dawn, how they contrast and enliven the warmth and hope of the bright, … More Sweet Salt
July 9th, South Creek Trail I’ve been mulling over “Wild Geese” by Mary Oliver since the first time in March. The poem seems to be slowly developing its color and understanding as I allow myself to really feel into how its message applies to my life. The line, “harsh and exciting” has caught my attention … More Where Home Will Come to Settle
violin All I can play are two notes one followed by the other not saying too much or too quickly even simple notes can create melody sometimes isn’t that most of our days— knowing we did something, felt something, but have so little too say?
Maybe all our dreams are about those fears, even the ones we smile over that laughter might first sprout from a nervous notion lest something else could flash out: that might it be possible for me to hold something tender that I will come to want so dearly?
There are many mistakes made in this man’s life, Many of which, he believes, aren’t worth addressing There’s too much to do: the chores, he asserts, especially the lawn must always be kept clean. Over a summer’s time, I learned how to mow the lawn from a man hiding secrets, watched as he neatly made … More Mowing Lawns