Poetry

Wherever we go, the chance for joy, whole orchards of amazement— one more reason to…

I know it’s summer when we wade out into the field and pick these crisp…

Holy Earth, Holy Cosmos, I bow before you With my whole being. Holy Creatures, Holy…

The optometrist says my eyes are getting better each year. Soon he’ll have to lower…

We are living now our regrets and our failures, the ache of what we wish could be again,…

We touch one another with defter fingers at night. Rain sounds different, its steady falling…

Philosophers shilly-shally, but it’s true: you are me; I am you. This dust, these rays,…

Take the thorny, inconvenient step. Create a mess outside your usual jurisdiction. Stop leaning on the…

Open your hands, lift them.                 —William Stafford, “Today” The parking space beside the store…

Just lying on the couch and being happy. Only humming a little, the quiet sound…

Tell me, what would you do today if you knew your life to be a…

It is not that the sun comes up or the earth goes around or that…

The self you leave behind is only a skin you have outgrown. Don’t grieve for…

Who wouldn’t choose the just-washed white of this Aspire scripted with eighteen small miles on…

Let’s thank our mistakes, let’s bless them for their humanity, their terribly weak chins. We…

—for Papa Sitting on the deck by the river hushed and soft with the light…

This week, the news of the world is bleak, another war grinding on, and all…

Someone says “Good-bye” and disappears behind doors or fades into the distance in a train…

This might be the best I’ll ever feel, these aches, these pains, this deep fatigue—…

We need to separate to see the life we’ve made, to leave our house where…