Oh, Barbara. Nailing it again. Reminding us that time "slides though our hands like a rope of silk."  The past two mornings when I...

Each morning, before I let in emails, peek at texts, hold my breath for the news, or face the general insanity of our current world, I let i...

It's surprising sometimes, the way Poetry Friday just works . You think of a poet, and you're drawn to that person, their poem, that...

The leaves haven't fallen, as Crooker's have in this poem, but a season is turning at our house.  Atticus has a meeting for school t...

After resurfacing last week with news of Atticus, cancer, and the smudgy blur that was the beginning of our school year, I'm back...