This morning we stand at the seawall, my dancing daughter and I. As I circle her with my arm and lean my head against her, I know...

Cape Cod Peace rumbles in the distance like thunder then flashes in your window like lightening to hang heavy in the air like the damp so the boards...

I. “Koi,” in Japanese, is homophonic for the word “love.”   Koi fish can recognize the person that feeds them.   Circling your mother’s pond, they open their wide mouths to vanish the...

Toward the New Year, that late December, we parked the car near the old Sealtest Plant just off Pennsylvania a block down from Washington Circle where, since...

Odd. Just plain odd. No other word for it. It’s hard to see, against the backdrop of beech and brush at the edge of the river. Fisherfolk...

Climb the stairs. Take the call. Stand by the old green chair. Don’t sit down. Hear your mother say It’s cancer. Don’t answer right away. Clamp down your fear before you...

In August heat, the urge to be misplaced can find you standing on the sidewalk, disoriented, holding someone else’s photos by mistake. Trying to place that cottage,...

Fear is in your bread and you must choke it down. To think of home— the courtyard with its red filigreed rug, the peel-paint walls, how the breeze...

He spoke seven languages and was never allowed to leave the country. He’d gone to school in Paris, which made him an enemy of the...

Ed. Note: Another in our series of poems by writers who participated in Arlington Writers Resist. My anthem is the serenade of birds, sung without regard...