Before Your Train Leaves

A poem from Nomad’s End, published by Finishing Line Press, 2010.   Before your train leaves a handful of minutes need to morph into their shape, crust like atoms becoming a molecule and tell a story with thrift. No time to dawdle. Back-story, established by your eyes, advances the plot, though I am more interested […]

The Beauty of Faces

Babci’s recipe, mom’s hands, Amy’s poems.   Babka I eat the bread with raisins and some butter remembering how I first learned to knead it. My mother’s hands would shape the bread in careful mounds, the counter floured in a dusting, light as graying memory. I mix the dough with raisins and some sugar moving […]

Second Thoughts

Second Thoughts Birches with peeling bark root with certainty in the spring soil while the ifs of the inorganic world outshine the quiet, sun-soaked solitude. Stretching on a lazy rock, I manufacture thoughts and watch them roam like hawks, settling now and then on rabbits, mice, the occasional thesis. A balmy spring wind flaps the empty […]

Wildness: Voices in the Sacred Landscape

Check out this great new anthology. In celebration of the 5th anniversary of its founding, Homebound Publications is pleased to announce the publication of Wildness: Voices of the Sacred Landscape, featuring 19 authors including David K. Leff, L.M. Browning, Gunilla Norris, Theodore Richards, Gary Whited, Eric D. Lehman, and me. Here’s a teaser from my essay […]

Sherwood Island

Why do the branches of love bloom outward? Why do tramps seek out the solitude of the forest, only to be humbled when companions join in? The beeches reach out for us; we bloom in their sights. My truest love is you who sways with me with trees as guides.

Slow Steps, Hard Work

What to say of tomorrow’s slow steps? The peaks that rise from Glencoe carry weathered echoes and gorges sliver slowly without sympathy. The only way to plea away erosion is to chart the heart’s geology and listen to the bagpiper’s ageless song. The only way to get up the mountain is hand in hand. for […]


We had a family of cardinals nesting in a laurel tree right below the deck. After many discussions about the impracticality of their choice, Eric and I did our best to keep quiet and observe from our deck chairs as mom and dad tended to the eggs. When the babies hatched (only two survived–we’re not sure […]


From Four Blue Eggs, published by Homebound Publications. Celebrate 5 years independent publishing, order your copy today, and give it to your mom. On My Mother’s Seventy-third Birthday The hike is pleasant; the trail markers are new, ferns and mountain laurel bloom along the path. A soft whispering breeze says something about remembrances and a flimsy […]


I wrote “Hunger” as the introductory poem for A History of Connecticut Food: A Proud Tradition of Puddings, Clambakes, and Steamed Cheeseburgers, which I co-wrote with Eric D. Lehman and me. Pick up a copy today–a perfect complement for cookouts, farmers’ markets and the pick-your-own summer bounty. Hunger What if the egg never cracked or the slick […]

Blue-stained Ukulele

I found this draft of a post this morning. I’m not sure why I never finished it or posted it last year. Thanks for this month’s issue of National Geographic (about Yellowstone National Park) for inspiring me. . . From April 2015: I’ve been a subscriber to the National Geographic Magazine for a few years now, […]