An octogenarian prose poem — Where do words come from? From books? Or from nurseries, classrooms, bedrooms, boardrooms, casual conversations? From a lover’s breath? From whispers, whimpers, arguments, anger? Where do they go? Are they wandering the mazes of the mind, or lingering in locked closets, or moldering in chests with no keys? Are they…

Quatrains from a boy’s notebook — Nightchild 1 I am no child to woo the night. I am not darkness, nor am I light. Give me your hand, so large, so fine. Your hand is cold — colder than mine. Nightchild 2 Stop me if I wander too close to the sea. Hold me if I climb too…

Six Word Photo Story: Freestyle — What did you expect, a laptop? I came across this scene in Rome, Italy. I assume the man was a chauffeur waiting for a wedded couple. I hope he wasn’t the groom!

Six Word Photo Story: Freestyle — When in doubt, just reach out. Decisions, decisions! It is always good to have someone to consult about making the right choice — not only in a candy store but throughout life. My grandchildren are discovering this during a vacation in Spain’s Balearic island of Mallorca.

Then came the sun — You know those terrifying thunder and lightning storms, the torrential rain and the mysterious music that introduce campy horror movies? Except for the music, that was the scene last night at Villa Flores in Puerto Rico. But when I went out on our north terrace with my coffee a little…