At first I thought she had a cold: her
eyes were puffy and moist; she had a hanky
bunched in her fist. He spoke as if he
did not know the rules for this kind of
conversation, as if she were speaking in
colors and perfumes, not words. She spoke about
him, regretfully, desperately. Words and emotions
circled the small room Continue reading
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The flow
singing by the kettle
[Acapellics Anonymous, the quartet I sing in, volunteered to sing while tending the Salvation Army Christmas donation kettle at a local grocery store this afternoon, right beside the checkout counters on the way out. We sang for a couple of hours, giving me a chance to observe donors from the other side of the kettle.]
The tunes were mainly Christmas-y,
and a steady flow of people contributed
loose change, loonies, toonies, fives,
tens and even twenty-dollar bills.
Some even stopped to chat quite earnestly
with the seven-year-old daughter of our
Lead singer, who was sitting with the kettle,
handing out thank you cards. Continue reading →