Some varieties are named Scarlet O’Hara, Heavenly Blue, Party Dress, Inkspots, and Carnevale di Venezia. A warm October, the tomato plant still hardy and green, thick stalk from five months growth, a …
On an afternoon in October I am arranged on a stool playing a guitar on a stage awash in cerulean light Sporting a hazel green Stetson that brims rakishly over dark Maui Jims ,I can barely perceive the …
The other morning, coming downstairs, I sensed a tingling in the air - a freakish early morning lightning streak perhaps. But then I caught the scent of buttered toast and the sounds of kitchen …
Ignore the hardness of the window’s ledge. Gaze through pained glass at farmers roaming rows of raked dirt and corn crops. Consider the comfort in those stalks how leaves both nestle and protect. …
I stopped on the little bridge over the creek today to let the sun caress my back, the wind float my sweat away, the lazy pull of the water streamline my thoughts. The sky was blue, and the ground …
You were gifted a dandelion Many moons ago The flower helped you laugh The flower helped you grow But the dandelion itself Had nowhere left to go So you put on a brave face And let it break your heart …
Now, in September, now, before it is too late, take off your shoes and walk out into the garden. Walk out into the garden and if the sun be shining, let it soak through your clothes into your skin, …
My grandfather bears a pocketknifein the same pocket, every day. Which: right or left? More instinct or ritual? Unconscious or holy? My father stashes a multitool hidden in the depths of a dresser full of …
We sat at an old wooden table, and shared some snacks. She looked at me, at the sky, the water, and the trees. We walked slowly around the lake. The path was covered with soft, inviting, pine needles.
The search is on for the 47th annual Bucks County Poet Laureate, according to Bucks County Community College (BCCC) professor Ethel Rackin, Ph.D., director of the longest-running poet laureate program in Pennsylvania.
I glide effortlessly on the glasslike surface, a lotus flower in a lily pond no ripples no strife I turn toward the heavens to keep me safe & calm a respite in a world where prayers often …
St. Luke’s-Roosevelt, New York City Remember when I said to you, Hold your son. And you said, Later. And I said, You didn’t hold him yesterday. Hold your son now. I knew you were afraid, but you …
Through the generosity of Marv Woodall and his wife Dee Ann, Poet’s Corner got its start in February of this year. Nothing is guaranteed beyond that.Marv has recently pledged to match up to $25,000 …
Dad taught me how to search forripe blueberries, how to tickle the stemsand gently strip branches cleanwithout bruising the fruit. Back then, giggling, we’d pop a fewin our mouths, and I’d roll …
The Bucks County Choral Society concluded its 50th Anniversary Season with a concert on Sunday, June 4, at St. Paul’s Lutheran Church in Doylestown.The highlight of the program was a newly …
Your kitchen, in grey hesitant light— coffee, French bread, goat cheese served on blue unmatched china.Breakfast is simple as always. We eat quietly.The hiss of the espresso potintersects careful …
Oh Moon, whose ancient face has viewed this mortal sphere from Alpha on, until this very night, when silent shafts of glow creep down to change each daytime shape with soft, ethereal light.
The day after my mother’s death, my niece and I pour through photo albums, find a box of loose, curled, snapshots — images of the massacre at Gardelegen —a barn door opened by American …
We had so little time dad.
The first time I saw my father embrace my mother was when she struggled through cancer. Framed in my mind is a wild-haired woman in a limp flannel gown, held stiffly in Father’s heavy hands at the end …
