Tulip People

Tulip people aren’t Crocus people. They don’t tweet out    slapdash signals of spring    at February’s first foray into the 50s. Tulip people are distinct from the Daffodil crowd— apart and unmoved, apparently unheralded    by spring’s delirious drum majors    and clamorous countryside. Tulip people aren’t Hyacinth hipsters     or Snowdrop snobs, norContinue reading “Tulip People”

Thy People Shall Be My People

How often do we reflect on the profundity of the simple proverb Opposites Attract? It’s a brief axiom as familiar as a surname and ordinary as an apple, but to probe its meaning and implication is to plumb a mine shaft of mystery. What do we mean when we say, “opposites attract?” Why are weContinue reading “Thy People Shall Be My People”

A Simple Wooden Glider

A simple wooden glider at the curb for Bulk Trash Day. Its rear cushion sags and hangs tenuously by a loop re-sewed twice. The armrests have long since lost the softness of their pseudo suede and are worn and polished like a haystack rock on the Oregon coast. Years ago, the chipboard seat support bentContinue reading “A Simple Wooden Glider”

I Have An Antique Rose

I have an antique rose; She waits patiently for me. When I draw nigh with pruning shears, She utters not a plea. Her thorny branches twine in knots, They tangle by degrees. Yet when I start to thin them out, She neither fights nor flees. She stands in proud defiance, An indomitable foe; It’s ne’erContinue reading “I Have An Antique Rose”

Dump Trip Saturday

Dump Trip Saturday is sacred among Saturdays. It stands alone unto itself, unique and holy. Its rites and rituals are solitary and serene; their execution is communal (and clamorous!). . Dump Trip Saturday is always borne from Saturdays past: A pile of scraps after a completed project, appliances failed beyond repair, a neglected playhouse, aContinue reading “Dump Trip Saturday”

Flagstones

It can hardly but sober a man to consider how he will be remembered after he at last shuffles off this mortal coil. Will he, in that dim light of dusk on Jordan’s bank, depart in the assurance that he done all, lived all, loved all that he could? Will he, when his works become manifest on that Day and are tested by fire, have anything to show for that which he toiled under the sun? Did he, as Moses prayed, number his days aright?