To a friend on why we should help the disadvantaged among us... My Box of Colours. I have been given a box of such exquisite colours to choose from. Just look. Dozens, hundreds, an entire spectrum. So plentiful, so easy to share. Go ahead: dip your brush into the emerald, Take from the scarlet, the azure, the marigold. Sample the vermilion, the verdigris. The cool lavender also awaits. The wells are deep. Paint your picture: I still have more than I shall ever need to paint my own. TM - Miskwabi Lake, May 15, 2012.

Know You Were Here. Shake out the meaning of things Make it your life’s work. Tell the child she is smart Have it matter not if it’s true. Look up from your book, your ledger, Your slumber. The sun sets on the dock in five minutes, Someone has something to tell you, You’ve got to show up. Get wise: You should be writing all this down. We are granted a finite amount of absolutely everything. It must count for something. Listen for the messages. The clock is ticking. Know you were here.

What Poetry Can Do.

Poetry at its best makes us feel that we have never heard those words before but have always felt them. It gives voice, perhaps for the first time, to either the secret, sacred world within each of us, or the wide world around us, both of which we all have in common. Good poetry can unite us in a way few things I know can. A good poet makes you wonder just how they can possibly know what is going on inside your heart and head. And it is a feeling that elevates us, above the frey of every day banalities and trifles.