Monthly Archives: April, 2021



The branch outside my window
beckons you near,

while inside,
the teakettle whistles,
the dryer hums and tumbles,
and the radio croons
old, familiar tunes,

I see you before I hear you,
perched in splendid hues,

I pause to delight
in the mere sight of you,

carefully preening,
sweetly singing,

thank you for being
outside my window.

Photo by our neighbor, Annalies Corbin. See more of her photography at:
and follow her at: @annaliescorbinphotography on Instagram.


She plays Gigi as she turns in slow circles,

she was hand-carved in Switzerland,
then painted with a delicate brush,

but this poem is not about the music or the art,

it’s about the gift,

54 years ago, in the summer of 1967,
my sister, Judy, and her best friend, Ellen,
boarded a student ship called The Aurelia
out of New York Harbor,

it took nine days at a top speed of 30 mph
to cross the Atlantic,

they spent an entire, epic summer in Europe,

I later listened to Judy’s tales of watching
the bulls run in Pamplona,
falling for a young man named Enzo in Rome,
riding trains, hitchhiking, dancing,
turning twenty-one in Paris,

feeling completely, totally alive,
feeling independent, feeling free to make mistakes,

finding common ground with people
from all over the world,
finding joy in simple meals, new experiences,

finding a gift for me in a small shop in Geneva,
then carrying it home in an overstuffed suitcase,

I was fourteen, awaiting my own adventures,
yet feeling so alive holding the exquisite music box,

that’s why I still have it,
why I still wind it from time to time,
why I will keep it on the mantle until I’m old
and misty-eyed with nostalgia,

to remind me that some gifts
carry indelible memories,
that our stories can encourage
others to cross oceans,

that love is sometimes extended
at just the right time,
to just the right person,
for all the right reasons.