The Sage of Wemple Road
His family, from colonial days. His life, near a century of time. How to encompass such with ephemeral words on fragile paper.
Continue reading →Category Archives: Poetry
Signs of Autumn
The autumn leaves are changing From green, to orange and gold; The butternuts are falling; Summer is growing old.
Continue reading →A Sermon to remember — July 6, 2008
It was not the typical church service that day — rumbles of thunder and lightning, but they seemed far away. Shirley’s organ prelude with tones ever swelling (oh how I wish she was playing “The Heavens are Telling”!)
Continue reading →Aging
What is it like to be 93?Well, I’m still hanging in thereAnd well it might beAs I try to keep busyI feel that I mustMy theory – it’s betterto wear out than rust. Oh, I have a few problemssome pains … Continue reading →
An Adirondack Morning
In a comfortable Adirondack chair feet up on the railing a cup of fresh-brewed coffee in one hand,bagel in the other I gaze out at the lake and watch as a light mist slowly rises, and is escorted away.
Continue reading →Seasons – Goodbye Summer
Autumn leaves are changing From green to red and gold. Butternuts are falling… Summer is growing old. Partridges are drumming, Squirrels run to and fro… Birds in congregations Soon south will start to go. Cold weather will soon be with … Continue reading →
Seasons
Short nights – long days Clear skies — no haze Flowers bloom — birds sing Thanks to God – Another spring. Lawns to mow – What a bummer All too soon Another summer. Shorter days — longer nights – Nature … Continue reading →
The Tree Climbing Model T (A true story)
What is that strange-looking car I see? Well, believe it or not, it’s a Model T ‘Twas said it’s a car that all could afford. The maker, none other than Henry Ford. It’s a simple car – with “three on … Continue reading →
The Old Worn-out Shoe
Tell me your story- Old worn-out shoe, Tell me of times long ago When you went out dancing The whole night through. Square dances and parties Hither and yon, And not getting home ‘Till the break of dawn. Morning comes … Continue reading →
Ode To Stephen Van Rensselaer
It was 24 December 1795 — of course there’s no one now alive who remembers that winter day or year when Consistory met with Stephen Van Rensselaer. A man of wealth
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