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We Are Farmers
These barns are good. . . . good for carrying on important business, good for storing things, good for being the fragrant strongbox of our memories. . . . places where we played, growing up forever. Tresy (Our first born son, whom we call Tresy, has given me permission to reprint…
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Winner of The Last Bird Sings
It is nearing midnight and I am going to announce the winner of The Last Bird Sings. To accommodate my readers from across the waters and those who work nights, the winner is Laura Libby Jones. I will be contacting her for essential information and the book will be on its way. I want to…
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Excerpt From The Last Bird Sings
Felix is the Elder, the mentor and Marshall is his student, needing Felix to teach him what Marshall needs to know. They are out in the field with the huge machine, lovingly dubbed by the Brothers as The Hemingway. It is hot and Marshall is fidgeting. “Why do you say that evening can…
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Book Drawing
The Last Bird Sings is a story within a story and the form is much loved in European Literature. It contains excerpts of my life along with my understanding of these events in the long scope of my life; how they have shaped me into who it is I am. How and why I view…
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The Night Sounds
Not quite 50 when I wrote the following one Saturday night in a September journal entry. The window is open where I sit and it is black outdoors. The dampness is coming in and I am almost transported to my youth and it is once again life on The Farm. The crickets are making…
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To Be Born Anew
To Be Born Anew The heads of state sat studiously brooding over the new confrontation; perchance an answer lay buried, obscured. Why should we, they pondered, be for all things and all people always a hundred per cent? Only because Conscience told them, when you see it to be done, it is yours to…
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The Gold That Shows
My friends thought I was obsessed with connecting the dots. This is the process by which I see an event and see its consequences while the event incubates. I have a lifetime behind me where I was a veritable Sherlock. They were unable to see the connections between people or events even when pointed out.…
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My God Watches Me
(When I published the journal entry called Hidden Lessons, I was nudged to go through my files because I thought there might be a poem I had forgotten about. After much searching I found it and thought I would follow the Lessons essay with what I had written March 08, 1998. It explains to me…
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Where Is Safe?
May I ask you a question? He was sitting at the window and looking out as if he could will the sun to come out so he could play outdoors. Why you ask? Because I want you to know that if you don’t want to answer, you can say no to me. But you always…
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Communion
snow cover reflects unto the bed of day, like the white lilac on a summer night. radiance expected with the dawn will discover itself in the light. it is a damask world of white on white. when the thaw comes there will be no trace of the winter things nor the magic grappling on the…