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  • A Walk of Many Suppers

    Originally published in LLL US Western Division’s Connections #72, July/August 1997

    I often take my daily neighborhood walk in the summer during the Canadian “supper hous,” between 5 and 6 PM. I smell what’s cooking on the many stoves and grills and in the many ovens in my suburban neighborhood of Dartmouth, Nova Scotia. Mmmmm. Smells like meatloaf at the LaFlammes’, steaks on the O’Keefes’ barbeque, and pizza at the Glynns’. Probably fish chowder at the Boudreaus’, crab cakes for those O’Hara boys, and fried chicken at the McFarlands’. And maybe I’d better get started on the sweet-and-sour chicken my family’s having (since we usually eat at a more American 7 PM).

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  • Good Company

    Originally published in LLL US Western Division’s Connections #74, November/December 1997

    In the 1940s, my father would hitchhike from college in California to Cleveland, Ohio, to visit his sweetheart, my mother. He couldn’t offer to pay the driver for gas, but he could offer something else. He carried a handmade sign that he held up to each passing car. It said “Good Company.”

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  • Baby Dancing

    Originally published in LLL of Ohio’s The Circle, 1989

    Sway and sway
    Two step, dip
    Sway and sway again;
    Cheek to cheek
    Every night
    The perfect partner on the floor.

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  • The Extra Loaf

    Originally published in LLL of New Mexico’s Enchantment

    Two loaves of bread in each batch.
    One loaf fresh, hot, and buttered for us
    The other into the freezer to wait.

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  • To the Stars and the Moon

    Originally published in LLL of New Mexico’s Enchantment

    I never got to meet you,
    Little, tiny almost-child;
    You slipped away
    To the stars and the moon
    And didn’t come back
    To tell Mommy how beautiful they were.

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  • The Day You Danced in the Cheerios

    I had always been saying,
    “I have one son and a baby.”
    You were still so little
    Even though you could stand
    And yell and play.

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  • For My Baby Brother

    Originally published in LLL of New Mexico’s Enchantment, Winter 1986

    I didn’t know about him for a long time.
    It had been an afternoon–an ordinary summer afternoon,
    August 9, 1963;
    I was home in the kitchen,
    My mom was chopping something.
    Patrick Kennedy had just died,
    The President’s little baby boy,
    I told my mother it made me sad.
    She stopped.

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  • The Mailbox

    Originally published in LLL of Texas’s Ten-Gallon Tidings, Fall 1993

    I stared out
    Past the drapes
    Past the tears
    Past a layette I guess
    I won’t be needing

    To the mailbox.

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  • Starlings

    All three boys were in our tree
    When suddenly
    At some command
    They reappeared
    In the front yard hammock.

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  • For the Trip

    There were grapes and granola bars, rice cakes, and jam
    Little bags of popcorn and sandwiches of ham
    Peanut butter crackers and bagels and cheese
    And everything I love to eat in piles up to my knees!
    But my mommy said, “No!”
    Not before we all go!
    That good stuff is all for the trip!”

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