by Warren Gaston | May 15, 2020
This poem should be finished by now. It’s gone on too long even though just began. Already I can tell you it won’t tell you much. I should know. I’m writing the poem. The only way even I will know what this poem is about is to keep writing. If I quite writing...
by Warren Gaston | May 12, 2020
Make a list of all the things you want to forget about your life. It may not be easy to remember. It may take time. Take a day. A couple of days. A week if needed. Some may need a month. Effort may be required. Review each breathing season year by year. Carry a...
by Warren Gaston | May 10, 2020
Celebrating Margaret Elizabeth Gaston (1915-1990) Today I salute my mother, a blend of grit and grace, both magical and practical. She never lived in a house her family owned. Her father, a minister, was provided a parsonage when she growing up and her husband, my...
by Warren Gaston | May 8, 2020
I was having coffee with a friend. Two tables over and one down sat two women doing the same, to me total strangers, to each other friends. The one with her back to me twice, three times reached her hand behind her neck and with a bent finger below her collar...
by Warren Gaston | May 7, 2020
Sunday morning, while picking up the New York Times in its wet wrapper from the fresh rain on the driveway, I looked up. Steel gray clouds stretched from horizon to horizon muffling the light song of the sun. By noon the clouds, disturbed by wind, thinned, broke up,...
