From mysliveroflife.blogspot.com

In Spring the gardener finds out death.
He finds which limbs did not o’erwinter.
Some stems twig and bud and bloom,
Some stems splinter.

I lost a limb some seasons back,
Of my flesh, my firstborn daughter.
Time dried the break, but I still lack
The fruits–a moiety of laughter.

(more…)

Today would be Betsey’s 11th birthday. This is what I wrote on her birthday seven years ago.
(more…)

When Elder Pino started talking about a sweet family’s day at the beach and then, bam, their daughter drowns, he had our attention. (more…)

[Today would be Betsey’s 8th birthday. This is what I wrote on her birthday four years ago.] (more…)