Sunday, September 29, 2013

About those tomatoes . . .


In the last blog post
a photo of tomatoes on the vine
prompted the recall of
a long-ago poem.

I thought the first two lines were:

clothes on the line
tomatoes on the vine

Today I remembered the correct version:

flowers on the vine
bermudas on the line

summer came and 
summer went and 

no one fed the swine.




No tomatoes!

Brains are amazing storehouses . . .


Thursday, September 26, 2013

Tomatoes on the vine . . .

Yesterday I brought in these
unripened tomatoes
to save them from frost

but seeing them today
jolted me back to a poem
I wrote and published
(in a small journal)
over thirty years ago

I'm still looking for a copy of the poem
but here are the lines
I can remember so far:

clothes on the line
tomatoes on the vine
summer came and summer went
and no one fed the swine . . .

I didn't say it was a good poem.


Monday, September 23, 2013

The Boy on the Porch: Beginning

Usually I begin writing a story when a clear and insistent image appears in my mind of a character and a place. That initial image often becomes the opening image of the book, as it does here:

I'm curious about that boy and the people who find him, and so I write the story to learn more.

I hope that readers will be curious, too, and will read the story to learn more. . . and will like what they read.


Sunday, September 22, 2013

Water and Rock

The only noise
water against rock

water against rock

water against rock


(Acadia National Park, Mt. Desert Island, Maine)

Friday, September 13, 2013

The Original Cubism

Wicked storms blew through
trees down
power out for twelve hours

One result, from the fridge: 

My husband calls it

'the original Cubism'


Friday, September 6, 2013

Communing with Ocean, part two

You are lured in by
the tree-framed view

to stand on the rocks
and breathe

to kneel by water's edge
and admire.

It is good to disappear
into such grandeur


Thursday, September 5, 2013

Communing with Ocean

The pull of the ocean is so strong

sun  sand  water

rocks  seaweed  shells



Monday, September 2, 2013

Sheep Talk

There was some
sheep talk
going on
at the fair
Union, Maine:

I was eavesdropping.