Green feathers in memory…

Green feathers in memory—transatlantic shipboard, 1958, old woman’s hat


Snow, apple branches, sky gone gray, the neighborhood quiet


What’s winter for? To remember ocean going hats…


So many dreams vanish at sunrise—this is why I love December darkness


“The days are like angels in blue and gold, rising up untouchable above the circle of destruction.”

    —Erich Maria Remarque

      All Quiet on the Western Front


Guide dog Corky Corky stepped into the gondola first. I let her go. Then I stepped down ever so carefully. What a tenderness I felt just then. Man. Dog. Water. Faith. How far we’d traveled for that gentle sway.


We floated down the Grand Canal. Our gondolier said we were passing beneath the Rialto Bridge. I hugged my Labrador as we floated under the Ponte della Liberta.


I thought: “how much beauty can one man hold?”

We drifted past the Palazzo Grimani di san Luca.


I wondered of course what Corky was seeing. I hoped she was watching a bird that flew and flew.

In the end it’s all about motion in the sky.

There was a light surge of waves.

Author: skuusisto

Poet, Essayist, Blogger, Journalist, Memoirist, Disability Rights Advocate, Public Speaker, Professor, Syracuse University

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