A Rumination on Trees

Knees quaking, I recited that famous first line, “I think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree” penned by Joyce Kilmer and delivered at an Arbor Day school assembly some five decades ago.

See How They Run

A family of mice have taken up residence in my potholder drawer, no doubt as a result of my lackadaisical housekeeping and drafty old hovel that I call home.

The Busy Life of the Insomniac

I come from a long line of insomniacs. Growing up, after tossing and turning for hours, my dad would make at least one nightly pilgrimage into the kitchen in search of a little snack to help him sleep.