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Mother Tree

Yeah, yeah, I know. Mother’s Day in the US isn’t until next week. But when I began this poem, I didn’t know it was going to be about mothers. Or about tree rings. That’s the beauty of…

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What Happens

  This week I plopped down on the piano bench to muse with my fingers on the keyboard about what to write for today’s Staying Power. One song led to another, and eventually I came to “What…

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Someones

Happy New Year!

Like so many holiday travelers (perhaps you?), our family had unexpected adventures, trying to visit my mother in North Carolina at Christmastime. Happily, we eventually made our way to her.

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Two Stones of Goodbye

In my dream, I’m visiting a dear friend whom I don’t often get to see. Each hour of our time together is precious.

As our reunion is nearing its unwelcome end, we hear a soft knock on the door. Answering, we find Katie, an itty-bitty angel, not even five feet tall. In waking life, I know her as a woman in her late eighties, a mother of twelve, a longtime hospital chaplain, a lover of the arts. Her short-term memory has turned into a sieve, too holey to hold much of anything anymore. But her heart remains a huge earthen bowl, capable of holding the world.

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