Not a leaf left on the crabapple t… instead little red apples hang like ornaments on a Christmas tree… Little red apples that spend most of the winter covered with sn…

A group of older men gather once a week to talk about life after a heart attack. Old Len chews tobacco still and tells jokes in a voice so low

When bread is this good a morsel will suffice and when wine

We hung suet out on the deck today hoping the wrens would come and stay the winter,

Grandma Gretchen’s in her rocker and she has something to say. She tells a visitor, a young man from the city, if he plans to write a book about life on a farm in the Fifties, he likely...

A homeless man hangs himself from a tree at night in the city to close out the year. At dawn a passerby uses

It isn’t a flophouse where Fred lives now but he calls it that a month after moving in and seeing his fellow

The kitchens of Auschwitz are belching again. Ancient chefs, puffed hats askew, storm once more

Sleet on the turnpike in the middle of the night but I keep driving, both hands on the wheel, nowhere to pull off,

What we are not who we are matters to the world. Who we are not what we are

A rainy Sunday and Pastor Smith is in his pulpit bellowing to the congregation, “I hope you understand

November’s lovely in the rain, she… from her rocker near the window to no one in particular although the butler’s waiting for her groce… having walked her Pekingese.

An article in the paper reports something one doesn’t see happen in America very often. Eighty billionaires, millionaires and others close to that level