I wonder sometimes if I am married in some other Stephen Hawking time and place, to that same and yet different person. I wonder if I did buy that house in the woods, and if I did quit my job to become a wanderer.


Gather - Its branches pulling me toward long tables of friends, toward a sky of stories, toward tandem states of wonder.


Wherever you are today, can you stay just a little longer? Hear Jackson Brown’s anthem, or hear a Biblical command.


It is that turning time. The cicadas tell of it. The sunflowers, losing some of their mighty stature, mumble the inevitable.


The socks await each other. The lone earring, returned from France without its partner, Sits in the bowl by my bed without purpose.