Cold now. Close to the edge. Almost unbearable. Clouds bunch up and boil down from the north of the white bear. This tree-splitting morning I dream of his fat tracks, the lifesaving suet. I think of summer with its luminous…
Sleeping in the Forest I thought the earth remembered me, she took me back so tenderly, arranging her dark skirts, her pockets full of lichens and seeds. I slept as never before, a stone on the river bed, nothing between…
Why worry about the loaves and fishes? If you say the right words, the wine expands. If you say them with love and the felt ferocity of that love and the felt necessity of that love, the fish explode into…
Poet Mary Oliver’s new book of poems, ‘A Thousand Mornings.’ Written by Ray Waddle For The Tennessean When poet Mary Oliver comes out with a new book, I stop and take a look, not only because her poems are often…
For Earth Day. It fills you with the soft essence of vanished flowers, it becomes a trickle sharp as a hair that you follow from the honey pot over the table and out the door and over the ground, and…
Hello, sun in my face. Hello, you who made the morning and spread it over the fields and into the faces of the tulips and the nodding morning glories, and into the windows of, even, the miserable and the crotchety…
This morning the green fists of the peonies are getting ready to break my heart as the sun rises, as the sun strokes them with his old, buttery fingers and they open– pools of lace, white and pink– and all…
Can You Imagine? For example, what the trees do not only in lightening storms or the watery dark of a summer’s night or under the white nets of winter but now, and now, and now – whenever we’re not looking.…
Can You Imagine? For example, what the trees do not only in lightening storms or the watery dark of a summer’s night or under the white nets of winter but now, and now, and now – whenever we’re not looking.…
Charleston Through an Artist's eye 