Drinking from the River–October 2016

My sorrow, when she’s here with me, thinks these dark days of autumn rain

are beautiful as days can be; she loves the bare, the withered tree;

she walks the sodden pasture lane.

Robert Frost

Autumn Leaves Spencer-Love Tennis Center; Greensboro NC 2013

Autumn Leaves
Spencer-Love Tennis Center; Greensboro NC


2 Stolen Van Goghs Recovered By Anti-Mafia Police In Italy : The Two-Way : NPR


“Along with Youth”

“Papa” was the first author whose work I liked enough to look for more. I read a collection of his short stories in third grade. Yes, a bit early, but books were my best friends at that time.

Since then I have read his novels, stories, and poetry.

I never stopped loving his work.

Along with Youth

Ernest Hemingway


A porcupine skin,

Stiff with bad tanning,

It must have ended somewhere.

Stuffed horned owl


Yellow eyed;

Chuck-wills-widow on a biassed twig

Sooted with dust.

Piles of old magazines,

Drawers of boy’s letters

And the line of love

They must have ended somewhere.

Yesterday’s Tribune is gone

Along with youth

And the canoe that went to pieces on the beach

The year of the big storm

When the hotel burned down

At Seney, Michigan.

This poem is in the public domain.