YOU NAME IT!

    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 […]

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I WANNA GO HOME

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. […]

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TWO “O”s IN SOLO

    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 […]

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WHADDYA GOT TO LOSE?

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, […]

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MOTHER

  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 […]

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IT’S IN THE STARS

While strolling in the pasture one day In the very merry month of May I was taken by surprise By a rattling over yonder And jumped a hundred feet the other way. Yes, tis the season. Earth is on the move. Freezes finished their tour. Warmer days. Cool nights. And some mornings…still. Merry weather for […]

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HEAVENLY HILL COUNTRY

  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. […]

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