A bitter Christmas morning after a foot of snow last night. I shovel the sidewalk and make my way to the bird feeder. Before I can fill it, the wrens

In the glow of the porch light one moth a final fandango nowhere to go

Fancy spam emails I don’t mind nor the ones cobbled in broken English from someone who says he’s with a bank overseas

There are pockets of them everywhere, quiet and discreet. Usually they meet once a week

I understand what you mean when you say you’re alone and hope someone rings your bell day or night but that’s not the case with me.

Sam’s collected knives for 50 year… and has 200, maybe more, relics from the Civil War and before. Someone gave him his first knife when he was 30 as a gift but

When I was eight I jumped off a roof as if I had a parachute and broke a leg. He was there when I landed,

I told my wife the other night when she came back to bed my feet were cold so now’s the time for me to tell her not to bury me or burn me

When Molly and Tim got married they spent hours talking about everything they had to get done. And indeed they got a lot done. Now their kids have families

Made in America means different things to different people. In 1998 they made our old Camry in Japan.

Where did it go? I really don’t know. I lost it weeks ago in the middle of the night. Too tired to get up.

During the day there might be three cars parked at different places anywhere on the block. But at midnight there isn’t

Twin sons in different cities decked out in new suits fly home for the holidays arrive at the airport

We’re upset when vandals desecrate a cemetery and disrespect the dead not so much when doctors vandalize the womb