Essays
Sedgwick Cemetery 1947 – Aunt Katie
Her withered old face died into a long shiny coffin We stood and watched in amazement as they took her
In Search of the Sacred Valley
I remember when my father placed the candle onto Incan stone. No larger than a magnolia bud. Alabaster colored. The
In My Unswept Garden Lie the Scattered Cherry Blossoms
200 miles per hour, Tokyo to Nagoya on the Shinkansen, Japan’s much vaunted bullet train and I am reading Cheri
Jean-Jacques Rousseau 1712-1778 and Fukahara Gogaku 1730-1799
What I love most about travel is the challenge of the new. This past month I have been in France,