I thought I was just putting my busy book shelves
in order yesterday. I came upon a card, slipped
in between two books, and I stopped and read it.
That was not in my plan. I was out for order!

On the small 4″x 5-1/2″ card there was a photo,
a drawing and in small print a poem. Well, not
exactly a poem, rather a song. Here’s what it

“May God bless and keep you always …
May your wishes all come true …
May you always do for others …
And let others do for you …

May you build a ladder to the stars …
and climb on every rung …
May you stay forever young …

May you grow up to be righteous …
May you grow up to be true …
May you always know the truth
and see the light surrounding you …

May you always be courageous,
stand upright and be strong …
and May you stay forever young …

May your hands be joyful …
May your song always be sung …
and May you stay forever young.”

……………..lyrics by Bob Dylan

And the photo?
Stan & Sally Perham, Megan, Dave and Jaimey.
Every year they have sent us music from Maine, to
celebrate the season we are now just beginning,
the Christmas time.

Thank you, guys, I love you and miss you.

IMG_4752always with love,


NIC ASKEW does video biographies that are short
and unexpected and thought-tapping. Here’s his
second in the SHORT WORD SERIES:


There was a time when I
looked for certainty.

Certainty in the outcome
of the events of
my own life.

And then I realized that
there was only one certainty.

And that was that it’s all OK.

That there’s something
that could never die.

And now I realize that
the total uncertainty
of the events of life
is the adventure.

And that’s the wonder.”

Another line from Nic Askew that has lingered
in my mind:

“There is more to me than the series of
events I went through.”

There is a story with that one, but I feel that
any of us could have said that at least once.
Our story is like that.

Not rising above, not moving beyond, but
simply knowing the reality of: I am more than
the series of events of my life.

Using the word “I” so casually, I awaken to
the curious fact that the “I” that is me is also
the numeral one, the symbol of my connection
to all that is.

I could carry that further, but you’re there already.
and that’s the wonder.

always with love,

Art by Antoinette. Creation Series.


As I sat down, setting aside the book and its poem in preparation, I got distracted by an email message to
which I immediately responded, and now I’ve misplaced the neat intro I imagined I was going to start this Daily with.

Is this something happening lately?

Maybe it’s a sign of how so much is being tossed up in the air and finding
a new way of being as it falls haphazardly.

Back to my intention, here is the poem:

” B R E A D

Not eucharist
or daily bread
not expectation, need,
or probability, the bread
I’m thinking of is the loaf
already on the table
in Breughel’s Wedding Feast.

Before the pudding gruel is brought in
by the faceless waiters,
this bread will stave off hunger
and sharpen it.”

………………. ANNETTE BASALYGA, from her book
of poems, LIFER, issued in 2011

During my years as an art student, I found my way often to the galleries at the Philadelphia Museum of Art to stand
and stare at the prolific life of Breughels birds-eye views of his world.

With that in mind, I am aware of the wealth of these spare lines above; a mural, for sure, for the sense of unlimited delight and satisfaction that exists right now, around us, anticipating it surely. It’s there for the taking.

And, yes, we honor this ‘tradition’ at places to dine, the bread available without asking. Hopefully there is also
a small plate for the olive oil.

always with love,



What are the words we want to hear? How does
the sweet bird of hope call to us and lead us on?

I was quite surprised to encounter a word I had not
expected in a poem that was otherwise possibly an
ending. Who else, but the poet of my youth, would
leave such a light touch of promise!


” now all the fingers of this tree(darling) have
hands, and all the hands have people; and
more each particular person is(my love)
alive than every world can understand

and now you are and i am now and we’re
a mystery which will never happen again,
a miracle which has never happened before–
and shining this our now must come to then

our then shall be some darkness during which
fingers are without hands;and i have no
you:and all trees are(any more than each
leafless)its silent in forevering snow

–but never fear(my own,my beautiful
my blossoming)for also then’s until”

…………. e.e.Cummings
poem #99 in a Book of 100 Selected Poems.

I have put the book back on the shelf but I wonder,
now, what that hundreth poem could have been.

always with love,

How does the sweet bird of hope call to us and lead us on?


OMG, a poem that rhymes, that lives its life in
matching lines! Timeless, retrograde, familiar and
all on a page with space left over.

No meaning deep that keeps me from sleep that
just moments before had eluded me. I offer this on
a day, on a Sunday as the year finds itself in post-
election relief. Truly timeless.

“L E I S U R E

What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare?

No time to stand beneath the boughs
And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,
Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can
Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this if, full of care,
We have no time to stop and stare.”

………….W.H.DAVIES, p216 in the book,
Good Poems, compiled by Garrison Keillor.

Some day, at lunch perhaps, do not be upset
if deep in a conversation, I suddenly seem to
have left you. It’s only that I have been captured
by the passing parade. I cannot resist noticing
and I end up staring.

Do know that in that matter of seconds, I’ve
written the whole story of their lives, and am
now back with you, one-hundred percent.

always with love,

YES…time to pause and….
“turn at Beauty’s glance.”


TODAY I AM GRATEFUL TO HAVE POWER BACK in our building. I feel as if that “Sandy” storm has blown away all my favorite messages that circle in my head as important from me to me.

Before any more on that, I have this poem for you:

“E N D A N G E R E D
It is so quiet on the shore of this motionless lake

you can hear the slow recessional of extinct animals

as they leave through a door at the back of the world,

disappearing like the verbs of a dead language:

the last troop of kangaroos hopping out of the picture,

the ultimate paddling of ducks & pitying of turtledoves

and, his bell tolling in the distance, the final goat.”

……. BILLY COLLINS, from his book, ‘Questions About Angels’.

Very basic words, life reduced to essential left-overs, and it was this that kept echoing in my mind as I saw on TV pictures the devastation that the STORM has left behind.

Many have lost everything, literally all that they owned, gone, blown away. I have felt helpless in the face of that loss. I have then been amazed at
the stories of sharing and help extended from neighbor to neighbor and on up the line to the help available from our town, our country.

So, here’s where I found something I can do.

Standing in the midst of my own place, I can start again from scratch, yesterday’s importance gone, and see what I can blow away that’s no use to me any more, and what popped up very simply was
…… blame ……. .

I say that without judgement, now.
I see that I can be free to see you and me and all around us with only the clothes we stand in.

That’s 93 years and about 11 months worth of any piled up, incomplete feelings, emotional debts, blaming & shaming that’s held me captive.

Clean slate.
How about that!

always with love,