April is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain. So wrote T.S. Eliot in “The Waste Land.” Poor fella. He never lived in the Hill Country. No wonder he was depressed. The very title of the poem is the first clue. […]Read more "HEAVENLY HILL COUNTRY"
The days are clear, Day after day, When April’s here, That leads to May, And June Must follow soon: Stay, June, stay! – If only we could stop the moon And June! —Christina Georgina Rossetti O well. Nobody can stop time. That’s the way it goes. First your money. Then your clothes. But […]Read more "KEEP COOL!"
“I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is prest Against the earth’s sweet flowing breast; A tree that looks at God all day, And lifts her leafy arms to pray; A tree that may in Summer wear A nest of robins in her […]Read more "CAN YOU MAKE A TREE?"
Howdy, June. Fare thee well, May. Come again some other day. Or year, rather. And there’s the rub. A year. And another year. And another. Each one racing by. Even if we aren’t having fun. So might as well. April. May. June. They live year round as names for girls. January and July […]Read more "YOU NAME IT!"
A tiny egg. Sign of Spring. Life. Hope springing eternal. Newborn birds. In the nest. Out of the nest. Some in their eggs. Some wailing for worms. Like those at the Odeon Theatre. And some who don’t make it. A tiny broken egg. Bird unformed. Too soon. No hope. No wings. No flight. No feathers. […]Read more "I WANNA GO HOME"
Two. What a strange little word. Born out of “twa” and “zwei” and “duo.” But pronounced as “too.” You…and you too. One more than one. Not that there’s anything wrong with one. The lone wolf. A solitary oak. One roadrunner. The sun. One is the number expressing unity. Forming a whole. Undivided. After […]Read more "TWO “O”s IN SOLO"
Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers. A peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked. She sells seashells down by the seashore. She sells seashells down by the seashore. She sells seashells down by the seashore. Say it real fast and it comes out: Sheshellssheshellsdownbythesheshore. Gobbledygook. Alas, cheap thrills. With fuel on the rise, […]Read more "WHADDYA GOT TO LOSE?"
M-O-T-H-E-R. From Middle English moder. Old English modor. German mutter. Indo-European mater. Latin mater. Classical Greek meter. And Old Irish mathir. Mother. We owe it all to them. No matter who […]Read more "MOTHER"