Snowy Day Ode to Summer’s Cows

My friend Shelley just shared with me a lovely poem by Anne Sexton, Snow. If you know this bright little ditty, you’ll recall at once its references to, for example, God’s socks… Sexton also describes snow as being “like bleached flies” – how would one ever know? Me, i’ve simply never seen a bunch of bleached…

Making Stew – Step One

The kitchen My father, hunched like a bear in his corner chair Battered grey metal teapot Three bag tea? Or just two? Old oak table, the altar of our home Upon it, holiday and mundane meals Butcher hogs, steers, deer from the hunt – one time a moose that Dad and old Bert used in…