Author Archives: janishaag

Woman becoming bird,bird becoming woman?Does it matter? Are we not cousinsto crow, crane, hawk,egret? Are our arms not growingfeathered, our bonesbecoming hollow, readying for flight?Have we not felt the wingswe’ve grown, lifting? Yes, we rise as omensof good fortune,of the … Continue reading →

(after Kathleen Lynch—and for her, too) 1. Go to the river.Hunger for the current.Lean into the water.Listen.Inhale the sounddeep into your being. 2. Find the smallest twigs.Construct a delicate frame,a basket to contain the tiniestof hearts and other organs. 3. … Continue reading →

one Sunday each month in the loft,and today, newly turned fourteen,about to start high school, she unleashes two new songs withdense lyric structures, packed withmature metaphor many older songwriters lack. She, fresh froma concert featuring two of her favoriteformer-boy-band-now-grownup singers, … Continue reading →

Stroke by stroke, lap by lap,we move down the lane. We sit, breathe, thoughtsflitting through like birds. Step by step our feet meanderor stride or, for some, run. Pick up the bat, throw the ball,let fingers press keys, whether clarinet, … Continue reading →

The tagline on the email grabs me, along withthe first sentence (as a good lead should): First, it races away unstoppably—then it seems to stand still. And I read, my own engine picking up speed,that our heartbeats can cause the … Continue reading →

The oldest of us—the great-grandma onher 92nd birthday— holds the youngest of us—the great-grandson—3 weeks old to the very day, on a perfect July evening undera sheltering oak older than any of us, the great aunt taking a turnin between … Continue reading →

For Mom on her 92nd birthday ••• There are always flowers for those who want to see them.—Henri Matisse So many times after I pull into your driveway,walk through the garage and up the threesteps into the house, you’ll announce, … Continue reading →

Fourth of July, River Park As kids whiz by on their bicycles,streamers floating from handlebarslike birds, like dreams,grown-ups walking slowly behind,heading for the parade that windsthrough the neighborhood,we oldies exercise as we doweekly on Marilyn’s lawn. We’re seeing more humanity,along … Continue reading →

we were twosticks rubbing,creating heatthat 4th ,igniting sparkswhile far-awayflames dancedover serenehills, charringgolden grasses,blackening trunksof venerable oaks a fortnight laterI came to that landswept clean,all of usstarting over—you & me,oaks & grasses,finding our wayinto a fresh worldripened byheat & light&, yes,love

Walk around feeling like a leaf.Know you could tumble any second.Then decide what to do with your time. —Naomi Shihab Nye from “The Art of Disappearing” ••• And they did.She did. He did.Tumbled into gone-ness.Leaving us heart-heavy.Leaving us. Leavingas the … Continue reading →