It's a Jane or Johnny-come-lately, the solitary rose in my garden, a harvest holdover or belated bloom that's risen when the others have...

The girl I would have married had we met is on the other side of the street, a walking blur I only notice for a second. And her hair is a...

My hunter friend, the one I haven’t converted to my “animals-have-feelings-too” frame of mind, uses a wooden decoy in an attempt to lure...

In the yard, you felt sorry for the slug that crept so slowly up the stem of one of your greens. Poor thing, it doesn’t even have a shell...

The flowers in my house are a fraud, marigolds that never wither, forsythia forever fake with vibrant yellow that doesn’t fade, daisies...

It’s hard to believe that crotchety old man and his wife hobbling into the store where I work were once hippies. Their faces creased like...

Before You Die, it seems, has been springing up in bookstores all over the place. “1001 Movies to See Before You Die” – double-faced in...

My cat communes with the mythical, with the infinite and glorious invisible, getting an inside track on the weather and when the sky’s...

The poem I’ve written isn’t good enough. It surely won’t win an award, be published in a magazine or make the list of “Selected Verse.” I...

You’ve been bluffing your way through our friend- ship, the wine you’ve swigged in minutes making its naked presence known, that the...