Waiting for the fish

Waiting for the fish to bite or waiting for wind to fly a kite. Or waiting around for Friday night or waiting perhaps for their Uncle Jake or a pot to boil or a better break or a string of pearls or a pair of pants or a wig with curls or another chance. Everyone … Read more

And the flavor of

And the flavor of Pippa’s kiss–bittersweet and strange–stayed with me all the way back uptown, swaying and sleepy as I sailed home on the bus, melting with sorrow and loveliness, a starry ache that lifted me up above the windswept city like a kite: my head in the rainclouds, my heart in the sky. Donna … Read more

If I had my

If I had my child to raise all over again,I’d finger paint more, and point the finger less.I’d do less correcting, and more connecting.I’d take my eyes off my watch, and watch with my eyes.I would care to know less, and know to care more.I’d take more hikes and fly more kites.I’d stop playing serious, … Read more