Friday, May 29, 2020

The Good Life by Tracy K. Smith

The Good Life

When some people talk about money
They speak as if it were a mysterious lover
Who went out to buy milk and never
Came back, and it makes me nostalgic
For the years I lived on coffee and bread,
Hungry all the time, walking to work on payday
Like a woman journeying for water
From a village without a well, then living
One or two nights like everyone else
On roast chicken and red wine.
—Tracy K. Smith

Friday, May 15, 2020


I color.

I read poetry every damn day.

I hit my stride at 50... I burned bright...then ashes...

Scooby now runs the house.

My alter ego from “Inklings” coloring book.

Saturday, May 2, 2020

Ah, to be 16...

By Carolyn Cahalan

Sees and laughs,
Sleeps and eats,
Aches and cries,
Babbles, thinks,
Loves and hates,
Stretches, lives
And hopefully waits.


My amazing granddaughter, Mary Mace.  She’s joyful perfection, as we all were at 16.  I first read the poem above in my English book when I was thirteen years old.  Mary loves reading, poetry, photography, sewing, painting, drawing, crafts and school, among other things.  She runs track and plays volleyball. She and a friend took these pictures this week.  I love her fiercely.