Paris

Paris Willa Cather Behind the arch of glory sets the day; The river lies in curves of silver light, The Fields Elysian glitter in a spray Of golden dust; the gilded dome is bright, The towers of Notre Dame cut clean and gray The evening sky, and pale from left to right A hundred bridges…

Writing On Writing

2016 was what I had planned to be, or hoped would be, my "year of writing." One year to welcome many future years. I think I shouldn't have included that second verb, hoped, after my original one, planned. This is part of the self-doubt that all "on writing" books seem to mention at some point…