Monthly Archives: March 2017

Perspective

I don’t think kids appreciate the beauties of the earth. They aim attention elsewhere, I recall. It seems to me my memories, from 17 to birth, are made of fears, embarrassments, and all ingredients for peril or ability to fly … Continue reading

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Profiles in the Yard

The squirrels are the vandals in the yard. I used to think them cute, until I caught them digging holes to nowhere: no regard for shoots or seedlings. And you know I thought the cats were fine the neighbors loved … Continue reading

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Roomom

San Francisco is the metropolis of the west coast, but it’s only seven by seven miles. It’s also the business capital of its side of the country, but its financial district is only a few blocks on a side. So … Continue reading

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Now

I’m losing people now. The rate of birth of grandkids doesn’t nearly compensate for folks I used to love who’ve left the earth, and for acquaintances who relocate as age inspires them to seek more heat or less expensive residence. … Continue reading

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Sonneting

What’s up? You must have something on your mind, some statement or opinion for today. Of course you do – you think and feel in kind and attitudes developed on your way by parents, mentors, or your own accord. I’ve … Continue reading

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Change in Plan

I didn’t plan to ride the bike today. I thought I’d take another morning off. There’s stitches in my mouth, it hurts to say, and last week’s cold has left a noisy cough. But after I was up and scanned … Continue reading

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Butterfly

A butterfly is never old or strong. She greets the world as worm upon a leaf, and inches through beginning in the long phase of herself: a fuzzy garden thief. She rests awhile cased in her cocoon, suspended senseless while … Continue reading

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The Argument

Pam isn’t having a good morning. She’s been up an hour and still isn’t ready to leave the house. She carries her mug around as she rides herd on her nine year-old daughter and sees to her own scattered routine, … Continue reading

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On Time

She woke to windy winter storm in spring. She window-watched the weather as she dressed. The sky stopped streaming long enough to bring the dog outside, reluctantly at best. And still the looming clouds held back their freight of cold … Continue reading

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Asphalt

We didn’t ask the city to repave our quiet street. Nobody made a stir. We weren’t pothole-pocked and didn’t crave improvement, didn’t lobby or demur. But sawhorse signs appeared with closure dates, and trucks with backup beeps like metronomes, and … Continue reading

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