where the river darkens an experiment in autobiography & poetry

We took Mr Chumbles back to the vet’s this afternoon and, while there were some good signs with his eye, it appears that, beneath the heavy granulated film, his eye is beginning to bulge and could quite possibly burst.  Which will certainly assure blindness, but also, if not immediately attended to

Mr Chumbles returned home from the hospital yesterday.  The doctor who brought him out said, “Well, I guess we’ll give him back to you.  We hate to see him go.”  And several other technicians echoed her sentiment.  He was quite the ladies man with all those young women. Diagnosis remains tentative. 

When I saw snowdrops in the yard and heard robins on the last day of January, I knew something strange was afoot.  Now, in mid-March, Spring is fully underway in Morgantown.  Up and down our street, the apples and cherries are in bloom, hyacinths and daffodils, forsythia and, soon, lilacs and creepi

A great many of my friends and family are confirmed Christmas nay-sayers, citing primarily its commercial aspect, its religious dimension (or the lack of it), its hyped-up artificiality . . .   Etc.  I tend to agree with their criticisms and complaints, but reach my own conclusions, and my own solut