The Whistler on Harris Hill
Spoken by One Who Didn’t Listen People around Elmira tell the story different ways, but it always starts on the north side, where the Chemung drags slow through town and the hills decide who they’re going to notice.
The Ferryman Waits
Not all who wait at the threshold mean to enter. Some wait for you to step out. Fog thickens...congeals - the way dread settles when it chooses a host. Only then do I notice the lake breathing again, its exhalation brushing my skin like a hand returning from earth with something to confess.
A Fireside Carol
The wind outside begins to wail, a snowstorm rattles roof and rail. But here within, all calm and clear, I sit beside the fire’s cheer.
Fiddler’s Green
T he Legend of Fiddler’s Green Fiddler’s Green is a long-standing military legend describing a place of rest and reunion for those who have completed their final watch.
A Nap Among the Clover
I lay down where the grass was tallest, the ground warm through my shirt, the smell of green rising sharp and sweet as if the earth had just been opened.
What Santa Says When Asked What’s Hardest
He sets the list down slowly by the fire, as if it weighs more than it looks like it should. Outside, the reindeer shift their hooves - the sound of waiting.
If I Could Call You Now
To Dad This morning I woke up with your name sitting in my throat, like something I meant to say yesterday but forgot to get out.
The Attic of Hours
A Day with Our Beagle, the Bruegger Meister Introduction Bruegger was our first beagle, a companion who never asked much from us except to be near. This poem remembers the quiet work we shared one long afternoon - how his presence turned
The Long Coffee Break
The months tilt toward their own horizon, and I can feel the gentle pull - not quite an ending, more a change in scenery.
The Brass Ring
A remembrance at Eldridge Park in Elmira, NY At the edge of the hills, where the air holds the scent of mown grass and river wind, a diamond-shaped field gathers the last of the sun. Dad laces his cleats,
When the Darkness Isn't Empty
The dark is crowded with attention, Every shadow seems to hear, And the silence bends around me Like a mouth pressed to my ear.
Learning Cold
Now all this was done, that it might be fulfilled which was spoken of the Lord by the prophet, saying, Behold, a virgin shall be with child, and shall bring forth a son, and they shall call his name Emmanuel, which being interpreted is, God with us. - Matthew 1:22-23 KJV
Where Lilacs Still Lean
For the paths once walked on Lincoln Street, and the trails that linger at 173, where memory bends beneath the trees, and time remembers what the heart still sees.
The Old Home Streets
On ol' Lincoln Street I’ve often thought if I could go, Down Lincoln Street the old folks know, I’d find again that battered door, The cracked front step, the maple floor.
