To The Lady Who Put Roses Out

It was a quiet day on a quiet street. It seems like it was one of those family holidays; maybe Father’s Day or Mother’s Day… I don’t recall. It was a good day for a walk. We took our time, talking along the way. We were not walking for distance or speed. The old sidewalk...

Kiowa Ranch 2018 — Waiting for D.H. Lawrence

Our thoughts bewitch us at times. A certain rough edge of our perception snags an errant and unsettled hint of trespass.  Like time is standing still. Such was the case on my visit to the Kiowa Ranch. The old throne chair, now in ruins, still sits on the porch as if waiting for some wandering...

On Serenity

Quiet minds cannot be perplexed or frightened but go on in fortune or misfortune at their own private pace, like a clock during a thunderstorm.    -Robert Louis Stevenson Serenity? Why are we inevitably drawn towards turbulence when serenity is the key to understanding? We strive to be like Stevenson’s clock. Steeped in serenity, but...

Cuzco by Starlight

It was a golden evening and Bario San Blas was charming. We were well fed on the local version of Ají de Gallina and a favorite local pilsener followed by Pisco Sours. It was sunset when we arrived, but we lingered long, sobremesa, talking and sipping our drinks. What’s the rush? We needed to walk,...

Crossing the Sound by Moonlight

As I remember it our day started late and was hectic and chaotic. Everything took longer than planned. Too many people around us moved in slow motion. A street fair popped up out of nowhere. Long lines of people. Shoppers and browsers. Street people and performers. This was supposed to be a fun and relaxing...

Mourning Dove

I have a widowed Mourning Dove Who seems lost without her mate. She walks alone upon my garden wall, calls from the parapet in grief. I found him, or rather the evidence of his fate, by the Mahogany tree. Predation is a constant threat for Doves. They seem not to know it. She seems to...

She Who Dances Alone

I found her one day – for just an instant. I wasn’t looking for her — not there. Not in the wilderness – by herself. But her dancing caught my eye. She was a solitary Flamenco dancer; her arms held outstretched, draped by her mantón; her long dress twisting to her movements. Her head was...

Sofia’s Bakery

The village sleeps while a few coyotesprowl and scuff through the alleythat passes for a dusty street. They own the night. We areonly tenants here at the edgeof the desert, close by the river. A light is on at the bakery,as it is every morning in thelong hours before the first glow. The coyotes are...

In the Camposanto

Padre Felipe was laid to rest in the Camposanto. He was a good man – from just over the mountain. Not far – He knew this place. He was one of us. Time passes slowly and he was never in a hurry. We came to this place, our families did, long ago. How many generations...

Somewhere Near the Medicine Wheel

It was somewhere near the Medicine Wheel that we knew our lives had changed. A commitment had formed, a bond unspoken, that remained that way for months to come. Unsaid, but forged strong for a lifetime. Silent. We were afraid to spoil it in those days of wonder. Now, those are hazy days in my...