Monk’s House The elm trees are gone now.  I stand where they once stood, imagining the two graceful giants, their limbs once inte...

A List for Hibernating in Fall No matter the weather, whether I’m tired or peppy, hurried or un, whenever I’m in London I always m...

How Do You Feel? Like many others around the world, I was fascinated by the opening ceremonies of last year’s London Olympics.  The...

We Shall Return There are winds that blow round the Isle of Mull.  Exhalations from the ancients, they spiral and corkscrew down th...

Something Special I have always been fascinated by the marriage of art and domesticity.  Whether we realize it or not, each one o...

The Death of a Poet Not long awake, I sat my first mug of coffee down and unfolded the still warm newspaper, wincing a little as ...

Spontaneity Years ago, whenever I imagined myself at the age I am now, I could see myself clearly, with great happy fistfu...

Back to School Every year without fail, there comes an evening in late summer when The Songwriter is especially happy, almost gleef...

Ithaka  by Constantine P. Cavafy When you set out for Ithaka ask that your way be long, full of adventure, full of instructio...

Those Who Love by Sara Teasdale Those who love the most, Do not talk of their love, Francesca, Guinevere, Deirdre, Iseult...

On a Night of Snow by Elizabeth Coatsworth Cat, if you go outdoors, you must walk in the snow. You will come back with littl...

The Happiest Day by Linda Pastan It was early May, I think a moment of lilac or dogwood when so many promises are made it hardl...