Poetry and Verse

Rumi died as a deep red sunset filled the skythe evening of December 17, 1287.I was born the morning of […]

There is a place I go when I am still.An immense world.A vast realm of silence. I listen to my breath,exhale

It’s not every day you meeta Los Alamos scientist in a swimming pool,well tanned and newly retired, lounging onthe Fed’s

Eight hundred million years agothis rock was formed from molten magma.During the last Ice Ageit was shorn from a cliff

It struck me during a moment of repose,reclining with friends on the Mission lawn,measuring our lives in a pile of

This elegant beauty engages youwith raspberry and dried herbs,the tasting notes tell us.It plays with you like a guilty pleasurehinting

We really shouldn’t have done it,stealing away like that together,nearly naked beneath the blazing sun.A lecture was bound to follow—

“And indeed there will be time …Time for you and time for me,And time yet for a hundred indecisionsAnd for

Manhattan is no place for a moonrise.One must imagine its fullnessor be content with furtive glimpses: a hopeful crescent creeping