“We are always here and always leaving. We are water, like the river, just passing through.” David Budbill I walk the waterfront. A damp wind batters me. The normal crowd is absent. Too cold. An armada of scoters dive near the shore, oblivious to the temperature and rain. Above me, convoys of geese traverse the … More Under the Dying Stars
“Sometimes, you don’t know where you are going until you get there.” Anonymous In August my wife and I drove to Manzanita on the Oregon coast. We were accompanied by her sister and brother-in-law. Our mutual objective was to escape the inland heat. Each morning we walked Neahkanie Beach. A haiku of fog shrouded Cape … More Just Coasting Along
“Whatever is happening is the path to enlightenment.” Pema Chodron I am a fifteen year veteran of Multiple Myeloma, a blood cancer of plasma cells. The majority of MMers have a life expectancy of around five years at the time of diagnosis. Approximately 20% of patients with this disease persist longer. I’m on the lucky … More The University of Cancer, Part Five
“… since we must always have a suffering world, we must also always have a song” David Budbill It’s said that “a Libra’s purpose is to use its unbiased and fair stance to fight for the practical cause of the world and make it become a better place. They like balance and justice.” Hmm … … More Libra Lullaby
“… writing a song can be like chasing a wounded bird down a road.” Lori McKenna I’ve been writing cringe worthy poetry for more than 60 years. I’m always thinking in rhythm and rhyme, listening for the music in words. I can’t stop scratching the itch to write. My last post, The Indifferent Gardener, linked … More Anatomy of a Song
It’s the winter of life. Ads for funeral services pepper my mailbox. Mortuaries stalk people my age. The implication, I suppose, is that I don’t have too many decades left. It’s nice to be wanted. Eventually, I’ll buy what they have to sell. But, for now, I’ll wait. There are more songs to write. It’s … More The Winter of Life
“In every heart there is a god of flowers, just waiting to stride out of a cloud and lift its wings.” Mary Oliver from The Kookaburras In late August of this year, of the summer when my wildflower garden flourished and yielded a wealth of colorful bouquets, crickets sang each evening their mindful refrain. “Soon,” … More Still Lifes
Hallelujah The primary colors of tulips brighten my yard. Grass sprouts between the bricks of the path. Manic behavior infects the bird life. They chatter about coupling and food, warmth and territory. Rivals join the juncos and towhees at the feeder. Finches and song sparrows visit. The numbers increase, but … More Hallelujah
Good Blood, Bad Blood 