Spring break 2012 – girls gone wild! With poetry!

I am sitting in the house I grew up in with all three of my kids sound asleep by 8 o’clock, drinking a glass of wine and writing poetry. This has been one of those amazing weeks you can never plan or count on happening for fear of disappointment, but when they come about, allContinue reading “Spring break 2012 – girls gone wild! With poetry!”

Easter Saturdays

Easter Saturdays (tentative title because I stink at titles) Cars full of people split the swamp where my creek flows.They must not ponder, pause, stare at hollowed logs,branchless trunks and wonder about the end of winter,spring still a whisper in the trickle of cold water through the culvert. What does all this dying mean, thisContinue reading “Easter Saturdays”


EnoughI Chronicles 21:15 How many times have you said,Enough! Withdraw your hand –the vessel of your wrath subdued?What invokes this rage, earthquakes,hurricanes, bubonic plague, rampanttrauma sweeping across continents? Why spare any? Impossibleto find mercy in so many, to lookbeyond intractable justice and seelove hollow in bellies of famine-struck,flowing like stopped-up rivers, yearsof cloudless skies, millionsContinue reading “Enough”

Explaining Easter to My Three-Year-Old

Imagine your marshmallow Peeps devoured by your brotherwithout one lick of sticky sweetness, the giant chocolate rabbitmelted in the sun. Even your mother and father –those great false gods – have eaten every jelly bean,taken away the pastel colored eggs. You hold your basket,empty, save for some stringy plastic grass. This is how Good FridayContinue reading “Explaining Easter to My Three-Year-Old”

Cascade Valley

Look, my daughter, the pine treedropped its seeds, and herea fragile sapling braves the forest floor.This used to be a birch treebut maybe lightning sliced it,wind heaved its heavy breath against itand now the trunk is rust.Sticks used to flirt, flaretheir skirts of springtime buds, but now we throw the broken limbsinto the rushing floodwatersContinue reading “Cascade Valley”


There is no el train in Auburn, no steady rumblelike long thunder on a summer afternoon.Instead, Suburbans honk and veer behindmy neighbor’s combine, pass and speed to the light,line up at four-ways for permission to turn. The Cleveland and Eastern Interurbanused to pass through here, the Maple Leaf Routecurving slow through Newbury out to AmishContinue reading “Junction”