Category Archives: The Other Village

Spring Morning

Sugar season: when one of my old Listening Post essays can be boiled down into 31 syllables, it tastes sweeter. Spring Morning One daffodil in a vase on the kitchen table in a pool of sunlight.Coffee in shirtsleevesbefore an open window.

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Grace

Photo: Maliz Ong, released to public domain There is a qualitative difference between grace and its near relative, luck. Luck, for good or for ill, is bestowed randomly by an indifferent universe. Grace feels like a personal gift from one … Continue reading

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Flowers Dress to Please the Bees

People, and poets in particular, easily fall into thinking that the beaty of the world is created just for their pleasure. Yeah, but no. Flowers Dress to Please the Bees Few regard the sundew deep in the marshor delight in … Continue reading

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Fluid Dynamics

Just ran across a draft of this written back when I was doing an April poem-a-s-day challenge. I think it cleans up nicely. Fluid Dynamics The whirlpool behind Sugar Island damwhere snowmelt drops to the penstocksends ripples back across the … Continue reading

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An English Major Explains the Universe

I once read Stephen Hawking’s “A Brief History of Time.” Heavy sledding, but there was this one bright moment when it all became perfectly clear. My hair stood on end for about five seconds, and then it all fell apart … Continue reading

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Cold Village

Photo: stuart anthony, Creative Commons, some rights reserved Being cold a lot is good for the ingenuity. There a lot of ways to get warm, both literally and figuratively. Ignore the folks from more blessed climes who try to tell … Continue reading

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Light in Other Windows

While I have sufficient opinions on the management of every aspect of life, I’m afraid I will never get the opportunity to run the world according to my designs because I am always discombobulated by the coming of morning. While … Continue reading

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The Fortunate Village

As a young reader I was strongly bitten by poems such as “We Are Those People” by Robinson Jeffers, and novels like “The Man in the High Castle” by Phillip Dick. The darkness and chaos of the last few years … Continue reading

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Armistice Day

The geese and the leaves, the last few weeks before winter conquers all have always been tinged with melancholy for me. Veterans Day commemorations conflate in my mind with the autumn Moratorium days during the Vietnam War when we marched … Continue reading

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Laying in the Bulbs

Reading Michael Pollan has reoriented my brain a little as regards who’s the boss of me. He reckons a mysterious vegetable intelligence has been breeding us all the while we have been breeding plants. We are symbiotic in ways we … Continue reading

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