Love is as varied as the points of light in the night sky. There is no question that I could never see any others than hers. Her light was just too bright. A moth to a flame, or circling round the sun was I. I would do it again in a nanosecond if she wouldContinue reading “Points of Light”
Category Archives: prose
Why I Write
I have been thinking about why I write. Every day, always in the mornings and often at night. I think there are several reasons. First, the page is the witness to the circuitous route I have chosen to take, and the words upon it my narrator. Second, it allows me to hold feelings and events,Continue reading “Why I Write”
Witnesses
So, now what? So much had changed, and I didn’t recognize the man in the mirror. We men are such foolish beings. We believe that we are our job titles, our marital status, the roles we play as husband and father. I had left my profession and become an advisor. I had moved from devotedContinue reading “Witnesses”
Requiem for an Elm Tree
Forty years ago, we moved the boys, the elder a precocious six and the younger a cuddly three, from an apartment with a lady downstairs who pounded on her ceiling, our floor, when the boys would move about as boys do. Our new house was just a few blocks from our old home, close enoughContinue reading “Requiem for an Elm Tree”
Mowers and Blowers
Meditations in a Suburban Landscape I cherish the time I spend with my Sangha. The Buddha would laugh at the little boxes its members fill on my screen, some I have been fortunate enough to share space with, others familiar to me though I have never had the chance to embrace them. This summer hasContinue reading “Mowers and Blowers”
Absence in Two Takes
One The dimensions of your absence are infinite. I smile now at my attempts to measure it from within, when the space we filled left no room to stand back and look. Shrieks and screams, laughter and lovemaking, the long years of raising our sons, now men with children of their own. I have comeContinue reading “Absence in Two Takes”
Legacy
Einstein once wrote to a friend, “People like you and I, though mortal of course like everyone else, do not grow old no matter how long we live. What I mean is we never cease to stand like curious children before the great Mystery into which we were born.” While parts of me, many partsContinue reading “Legacy”
Sunday Morning
My companions as dawn breaks this Sunday morning are the birds serenading me and the rabbit breaking his fast on the clover scattered across my yard. I sit above the fray, listening to Lay, Lady, Lay, Dylan’s most melodious singing of his career. A little blackbird with a luminescent sheen perches on the high railing,Continue reading “Sunday Morning”
Ode to Peace
They told me you were stillness: the lake with no wind, the held breath, the shut door, the white and waiting room where nothing is allowed to move. I believed them and searched for the place where everything stops. But I found you instead under a palm laid flat on my chest, a slow breathContinue reading “Ode to Peace”
Trying
The sky is still this morning, white, grey clouds with an icing of pink are fixed in place as if they had been hung in the sky as part of a grand design. Except for the soft cooing of an owl there is a stillness that belies the storm that tore limbs from trees andContinue reading “Trying”