A holiday letter



Recently I wrote the following letter to a very dear friend of ours and I wish to share it with you. Now I am alone in this cottage,  rambling from room to room like a ghost or weeping Banshie, I take stock of the incredible blessings and good will that brings healing to this new life and offers  comfort where the holidays bring such piquant awareness of loss.


Usually, at this time of the year the house is redolent with holiday decorations, closets secretly stuffed with little packages, surfaces holding lighted candles and the fragrances of vanilla, cinnamon, chocolate and burnt sugar. Trace was such a maestro of delights.

For my part this year I entered the sweet dreams of the past and recreated what I could and wondered while doing it—- what was it all about? The answer was clear. It’s all about love, the practical joys of nurturing moments, and never has it been more clear that such connections keeps us going with the radiant hope of life.

Thank you from the depths of my heart for your sustaining kindness over these many years and grieving months, for the sharing of our journeys and the gifts of nurturing, which let us know that we love and are loved. Happy Holidays “

Christmas Angel 2013

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Waiting at the edge
Of time,
And mine?
A stage,
A play,
Which everyday
dreams its own

Up at dawn
The blinds undrawn
To a garden
Of a million moments
With you.
Here all change
All turbulence,
All transience
Is time
Waiting at the edge of memory.

The days unfold
As stanzas in a song of longing
Singing to an absent you—-
You, over the edge of time
Never to be again.
It seems so clear now,
When old men sit,
Inward to the edge of memories
And the long gone sorties of love
Dream along.

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A Ceremony of Carols

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Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)

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Old Poems Never Die



It’s  quiet after the storm—-

A Nor-Easter born

Of warm and cold

Furious and bold.

The winds rise high,


Creak and moan

The marsh and forest sigh.

Then —-gone,

Sometimes on

Sometimes off

With winter’s random joff.

Heavy snow

From clouds in tumble





On  white earth:

The dearth of

Summer’s dying


Frozen low.

Silent  now

I wait for you

And you for me,

As we marvel how

A flurry of colors


On a sea of white.

Icy bright

Dormant trees—

A ghost force–


In the night.

Dazzling our sight

A sliver moon

In the cosmic room

Of heaven

Shines on us—-

Its starry dream

Real and true,

Drawn on the slate blue

Darkness of an endless whisper.

I hear you calling

Always and forever

Living or dying

Finding home.

The blind hear,

The deaf see,

We make music,

Make life,

Drink wine,

Bake bread,

Sing and dine.

With spirits and angels

We are many,

One in each other

Redeemed at the instant snow falls

In the vortex of a moment.

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