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Running over the morning checklist -magnanimity; forgiveness; simplicity of life;compassion; contentment; truthfulness…still, that reluctance, to..

If only love were finally, enough –then you’d have no more fears:look here, and listen: we have loveenough for you; and more; and more;but how to..

Every funeral, cremation, and its ritesmay have its grief; yet too,its celebration of a life well lived;and call out, too, self-dedication’s vow:as..

Deathis too late for grief.If we had celebrated their livingknowing that grief would surely comethen grief would have a place;deathis too late for..

She sat alone in the bus shelterplaying with a rubber bandbetween the fingers of each handand singing quietly to herselfeverything I doI do because..

The fly wringing its hands on the plate -is it anticipation, or cleanliness, or shame?Too late..

To live is to be slowly born’ –what a simple and refreshing viewfamiliar to a born devout Hindu;yet spoken by Saint-Exupery,who saw his little prince..

You’ve heard it said;it sounds just great –as well it might..so now there’s just the matterof our really-truly believing it; ofliving up to it..The..

bumped into my grandson's English teacher yesterdayat the football, and in between shouting like teenagersI moaned about the state of A's Eng. Lit...

this - yet, seeing this -the knowing, 'not this' - yet -this knowing seeing -That!

Dear Ms Dickinson: I’ve just receivedyour amusing little trifle,'Faith is a fine invention'as your first week's homework on this course..and hope..

Going deafis such a curse.Yet my listening's better -'cos my hearing is worse.Will it improvemy writing verseif my listening's betterthough my..

Today is the day after;after blackness, what?yesterday, black present filled the mind;today, not even light on blackness..a day not on the..

Reason tells us that the One Aboveveils His Creation but from tender love;His magic all around plays hide-and-seek;so shall we praise? or let our..

Cicada at dusk -do you know how sweetly singthe stars, with your voice?

In a dream that shone last nightwashed with a clear sweet tendernessI walked a paradise I knewand I remembered happiness:in a presence without endand..

There’s what we remember we rememberand there’s what we forget;then there’s what we rememberthat we’ve forgotten;and there’s what we’ve forgottenthat..

I’m not one for mementoes – Grandmain sepia, pie-crust necked and pleated blouse,expressionless amidst her dressed-up, mixed-up brood; chic auntwith..

OK, be cynical – say,why, it’s only a piece of dead woodthat found itself trapped whenthe earth’s crust heaved a sigh…be cynical - say,it didn’t ask..

Dusk on autumn brown -where does this sadness come from?Freed leaves, dancing home..*[some of the (too many) self-appointed authorities believe that..

Before dementia, with its cruel mercyfreed her from those golden bondsof obligations and relationships(the chilling question, and so carefully..

Parcel lost in post!fortunate to be aliveand live without it..

She saw them coming, that rainy day;popped her head out of the cave,saw them trudging sandalled up the hillside;being an oracle, she knew all the..

Who looks to whom?And who looked first?Everything that has directionhas its contraflow.The ikon whose golden frame you gently touchpainted its..

She has… had… (whichis the more appropriate wordfor those who live on so livelyin one’s human memory? …)that grace of spirit which you’ll knowfrom..