Seventh Grade Dance

an essay from the archives…. It’s 1975, a hot spring day in my seventh grade classroom.  Freddy is circulating down the rows of desks in the moments after recess, before class convenes.  His name isn’t spelled with a “P-H”, but it should be.  That Friday night...

After the Game

Football season always reminds me of this poem I wrote more than twenty years ago now.  Many years younger than my jock brothers, I grew up watching the younger play football, basketball, and baseball.  I spent hours upon hours commuting to games with my dad, his...

These Crisp Fall Evenings

This poem is sooooo old….I had to key it in to the computer. A broadside hangs in my mom’s bedroom in Abbey Country. I wrote this poem about my step-daughter when she was just five years old. She marries this weekend.  I publish this as part of her wedding...