First Known When Lost

I think of nursery rhymes as pleasant ditties that one recites to children in order to keep them entertained on an idle afternoon or to lull...

Yesterday, my afternoon walk began amid a sun shower.  As I walked along a row of trees (budding, but still bare), I was surrounded by veils...

During our all-too-brief sojourn on Earth, we owe it to ourselves to cultivate a state of repose and dreamy reverie.  Repose and reverie are...

I once visited a Buddhist temple in Thailand that had a carp pond on its grounds.  The temple's monks sold small paper bags containing p...

The smallest things can evoke the essence of a season.  Or of a life.  This past Sunday, a cloudless day, I was walking on the bluffs above ...

The magnolias are blossoming.  As are the cherries and plums and pears. "Loveliest of trees, the cherry now . . ."  But more on th...

As I have noted on previous occasions, each generation believes that the World is going to Hell in a handbasket.  How could it be otherwise?...

What is love?  I haven't a clue.  I'd like to think that I have experienced it. But who really knows? Call me a coward, but I tend...

The following poems share a common image:  a solitary gleam of light amid the darkness of night.  I am not clever enough to tie the poems to...

This past week I saw the first daffodils of the year, and, beside them, the first crocuses.  Over the weekend, a couple of neighbors mowed t...