Tonight in the middle of the countryside, with friends from our village, we are dancing. Their children and ours grew up together, though years have passed, marked only by their height and my dyed grey hair. the music plays, a…

     A poem.   Saint Francis and the Sow     BY GALWAY KINNELL The bud   stands for all things,   even for those things that don’t flower,   for everything flowers, from within, of self-blessing;     though sometimes…

     Gingerly Annie crossed the street, I watched her every step. We sat on the park bench watching the neighbor children play. Annie was captivated by a two year old girl on a hotwheel, "Isn't she incredible? Children are…

  Flowers on Saturday… A French flower market or shop is a beautiful treat. Especially the way they wrap them. Nothing in France is done halfway, such care, such elegance, such attention to detail.       Chalk board signs…

                      Yesterday afternoon a light rain awakened a new scent. An Autumn breeze rushed through the open window. A hunk of Roquefort waited on a baguette, next to it a Half…

  Received sunshine held for tomorrow.