First Known When Lost

The time has come, dear readers, to return once again to my "November poem."  I beg your forbearance, for this is the sixth such v...

Early last week, I came across this:      With the young trout in the valley A leaf of the dwarf bamboo      Floats away. Buson (1716-...

The Oxford English Dictionary defines "bourne" as follows:  "The limit or terminus of a race, journey, or course; the ultimat...

Everyone we have ever known remains with us.  Nothing we have ever experienced vanishes.  This is not simply a matter of our ability to reta...

Here is where we find ourselves:  " Now it is September and the web is woven,/The web is woven and you have to wear it. "  Earlier...

I am easy to please.  Or so I like to think.  Perhaps this is merely a matter of growing old, evidence of a fond mind.  "Or else I'...

When I am out on my daily walk, I often hear brief rustlings, chirpings, or wing-flutterings from within the bushes on either side of the pa...

"Neither the sun nor death can be looked at steadily."  La Rochefoucauld (translated by Stuart Warner and Stéphane Douard), Réflex...

In March of this year, I shared E. K. Chambers's lovely poem written in memory of Thomasine ("Tamsin") Trenoweth.  I was remi...

It's funny how these things work.  My most recent post, on Monday, was a paean of sorts to the sun .  On the following day, for no appar...