Tuesday, December 29, 2015

New Year's Resolution: Quit Smoking!

Change is always possible.
She says that to her husband one night
At dinner.
He looks up from a puddle of
thick yellow polenta on his plate.
He blinks.
Sure it is, he mumbles.

She brings her goblet of wine
to her lips
in her two hands.
Steadying her eyes on his,
She sips.
The air around them turns warmer.
Almost like the table is burning.
Almost like the sun has gotten closer.
Or more focused.

You don’t say.
She nods a little as if to make her words
Stand out.  Sharp.  Like the sauce that covers the polenta.
A red splash.  Spicy.
The sauce he doesn’t eat
because it gives him such heartburn.
He scoops the corn mush up onto his spoon,
And for a while he busies himself
bringing the spoon back and forth to his mouth.

I wonder sometimes, he says,
mashing the polenta over his tongue,
enjoying the warm comfort of it.
What does it all add up to?
He swallows.  And why we are here. 
Sometimes I just wanna know.

She shrugs.  Her lids go slightly lower.
I might wonder that too, she says in a hush.
But then I just know.
In meditation
I go
To the place I know

She stares into
the polenta he fixed
the polenta that
sits there now
as round as yellow
as a noon day sun

a hard fact:
life isn’t easy.
It’s a study in unhappiness
where change is always possible
but as unlikely as it is

She inhales now.  She gets up and
crosses the room
her bare feet slapping the wood floor.
She searches a kitchen drawer for her cigarettes.
She comes back to the table.
Bends one knee.  Sits on her foot.

She lights one of the cigarettes
She has promised she wasn’t
going to smoke anymore.

On her plate
sits the polenta
she hates
with that splash of sauce
he ladled out of a jar,
he thought she might enjoy.

You might try meditation

she says, the cigarette dangling
from her lip.
He looks up smiles. Shrugs.
She waits for him to say
Something he doesn’t say.
She stands and
carries her plate
to the sink where she forks
the yellow mess on the plate right into the garbage.
She runs the cold water in the sink.  A fleck of bright ash
Falls into the water, goes out.

I’ll do those up, he calls out to her.
No matter, she says. I have time. 
She reaches for the apron.
Ties it behind her waist.
And sets the cigarette in the charred seashell
she uses as an ashtray.
She sets her hands into the sink.
And he carries his plate to her.
And he burps.
And she thinks,
Change is always possible.
I think.

Thursday, December 17, 2015


My darling puppy, Poco, who turned two years old this week, has a new friend named Burt (he lives with his owner Nancy across the street in Lenox, MA where we are now living.)

The two dogs are almost exactly the same size, and they have similar temperaments. Poco is black and white and Burt is completely black. They are both adorable and lovable and sweet and friendly and furry and well, just exceptional in every possible way. :)

And when they run side by side they look like they are velcroed together!

So now when I say to Poco, "Do you want to play with Burt?" (which is almost every day) she jumps up and heads straight for the front door.

Sunday, December 13, 2015

Everything is a Miracle

It was Einstein who said
either nothing is a miracle,
or everything is -- 
a jagged mountain range
lilacs in bloom,
a peacock unfurled,
sun on your arm,
the touch of a stranger.
Be surprised 
by nothing at all,
or by everything that is.

--Maryanne Hannan, a poet living in Upstate New York

Tuesday, December 08, 2015

Ronen, the Future Rock Star

This is how my grandson spends much of his time.

Sunday, December 06, 2015

Welcome all guests

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
As an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

from "The Guest House" by Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks

Special thanks to my friend Sharon Flitterman-King for presenting me this poem on my birthday!