Ride the wind, trick the light into thinking that it is not you, there beside the trees not blooming, the grass not green, the air only dreaming of warmth. If you construct your world around these absences, this permanence, this fragrance of loss and this reflection of joy – you will be graced with all…
Star Breath
I believe that Dad encouraged my stargazing because he saw my fascination with the night sky as we rocked in the ancient swing set in the back yard, as he watched me discover awe for the first time. I had questions that he couldn’t answer, so we bought books, charts, measured the azimuth of planets,…
Update
As I approach the first month of doing this, I have to reassess my process. My first motivation came from being excited by the fact that my new bionic knee was allowing me to actually go on a real-live walk around the golf course near my home. Walks that had been absent for a decade…
River of Life
It’s a mild winter in Kansas, the encampment along the sandbar on the big river just keeps growing. Summer is not even a promise yet, but dreaming of summer is easier than heading south. It’s the perfect spot – out of sight below the bank from the bike path, and, even in winter the trees…
The Poet Wore Yellow
With a scarlet headband around the braids of her ancestors, and ancient, story-telling hands weaving her people, our people, into a simple, silver strand of golden sunlight. Words can do that. Words matter. We are a nation built upon some words that were written on four pages of parchment over two hundred years ago. We…
The Half-Moon Inn
Each day, I put in my shift. Most of my peers are retired by now, but I took my retirement out in installments over the years, kind of a reverse mortgage retirement. I spent my twenties and early thirties unencumbered by steady work, just working the minimum to get by, knocking around the country, Denver,…
Susan
On this day sixty one years ago, my sister Susan passed away. Yesterday, my brother Mark was attacked by a crazy person in a New York subway. It’s possible these two events are connected. A passing angel escorted Mark to a hospital where he received 15 stitches in his head. Angels, he discovered, are not…
Waxing Quarter Wolf Moon
For a warm, deep turquoise to grace the sunset, the sun must bring his light just right – carefully, slowly, like fruit from a lovers lips – the brightest red, the sweetest skin, the greenest eyes. The waiting cloud must be ready to enfold him in her arms and take him, colors and all, against…
Tiny the Wolf Hound
Mel and I arrived in Kansas just ahead of a thunderstorm that had been on the old Dodge’s tail since we left Colorado. Bones and Michael were scurrying around collecting things that were about to blow away, but Tiny the Wolf Hound was right there at our feet – protector, friend and greeting committee all…
Into the Night
I once boarded a train on a night like this – the wind a lion, the air a knife, the new moon a whisper. The train whistle was the song of my wanderlust, the hard push of steel on steel was the sound of a dream of a life that hadn’t happened yet. Up and…