Had I been present when those pastors blessed the Tahlequah tribe, my sister by my side...
Climbing to the breezy deck we hear ourselves descanting on...
The heron rises overhead, as we push off the reeded shore...
Sighing as I go, exhaling summer’s heat — I’m done.
In the first deep darkness, during lit candles and prayer, I walked alone past the mess hall with my phone.
Joseph Epstein reads The Fable of the Bees.
‘Like sterile seeds cast among weeds: cheese boards and socks, earrings and clocks... ’
‘Nebuchadnezzar’s statue stood, About as high as a false god could. The three were left with little choice. Silence after the herald’s voice.’
‘Pushed by crowds against the glass of Alexander’s, where we stood...’
‘In a sunny, spring morning backyard falling feather flash...’