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(noun: German (zane-zookt) yearning; wistful longing) We hear it in friends’ voices in the coldest places,in regions where they’ll be lucky to see spring by May, that wistful longing for somethingnot icy and cold, or even just wet and cold. … Continue reading →

“Her words, written to bridge the gap between us, cut through space and time.”— Genevieve Kingston, “She Put Her Unspent Love in a Cardboard Box” (The New York Times) (for Georgann) I have her letters scrawled in hernever-warm flat in … Continue reading →

Letter by letter, we assemble building blocksthat tower, that align, that make our lipspurse with sound, that we spit out as words linked like train cars, coupling and un-,rearranging into sentences, paragraphs,pages that, written down or spoken, become language. Yours … Continue reading →

If you plant them, they will write—or so you hope, tending the crop of tiny pencils-to-be,imagining the little sprouts growing up to color the worldin so many shades of green, testament to your devotionyour love for the drawings, the words, … Continue reading →

For years I looked at the waxy blobssprouting green stalks from the top,often wearing little collars that said,no watering necessary, which made no sense, conditionedas I am to watering outdoor plantsfor more than half a year and indoorones till I … Continue reading →

We often imagine ourselveson the upswing or down, forgetting that point in the middlewhere we are neither up nor down but doing fine. Better than fine.And even on the most difficult days, let us imagine ourselves flying upward,arms flung outward, … Continue reading →

You think you want to tuck in for winter,hibernate like the bears or box turtles,as bats or snakes or bumblebees do. But that means you’d have to securea safe sleep spot, store up a lot of body fat(and no matter … Continue reading →

And there, as the drops fall, I circlethe labyrinth, holding spacefor a single pilgrim walking— Blessings on your journey— on this stormy Sunday thatcouldn’t be more different thanyesterday’s blue-sky perfection, today next to another impulsivecreek burbling its way river-ward,when I … Continue reading →

I tell six women on a too-earlySaturday morning, as they tugon gloves, wrap themselvesin scarves to head into the chillof a winter morning to walka circuitous route to the centerof a labyrinth and then back outagain. Even if you think … Continue reading →

At the intersection of grin and smilepointing the way to happywhether you know it or not you made your way here to standon the edge of this circle and absorbwhat you think has eluded you so soak it up, buttercup,let … Continue reading →