https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/section-58-tasting-peace en 2005-2012 shakespearesmonekys@gmail.com 42.65593 -71.33391 Tue, 09 Jun 2026 03:54:39 GMT yacs http://blogs.law.harvard.edu/tech/rss 70 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-87-i.-grandfather-arriving https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-87-i.-grandfather-arriving Wheezing on the train to his son's house he watches sunrise from a dirty window along a river an angler casts in hip boots and heavy navy coat the conductor yells, "Rochester!" His brittle bones don't yet buckle only shudder as he tries to catch his breath ready his single, half-full and beaten brown leather bag and try to remain calm. Surprises are nothing like the sun. anstey Tasting Peace Sat, 01 Nov 2008 19:24:40 GMT /section-58-tasting-peace#comments 0 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/87 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/87 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A87 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-85-ii.-son-discovery https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-85-ii.-son-discovery father watched from the window in a green robe as I tapped through the ice to see the fish more closely he sipped black coffee from a dark blue cup and wandered off in thought as the first rays of sunlight painted the ice orange it was right then that I noticed the body of a tiny gray mouse frozen in the snow. anstey Tasting Peace Sat, 01 Nov 2008 19:24:40 GMT /section-58-tasting-peace#comments 0 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/85 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/85 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A85 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-84-iii.-father-son-rise https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-84-iii.-father-son-rise at six thirty this morning as the March sun rose over brittle ice on the frozen New Hampshire lake the boy was sitting on the cracked granite slab a foot from the shore with his tiny hands in the pool of water where he'd tap-cracked the glassy ice to reveal a sunfish. I watched in silence as his face washed with anguish at the tiny corpse of a field mouse frozen in the snow beside him. He didn't see the deer forty feet away looking at him curiously as he sighed. anstey Tasting Peace Sat, 01 Nov 2008 19:24:40 GMT /section-58-tasting-peace#comments 0 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/84 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/84 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A84 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-86-iv.-mother-making-tea https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-86-iv.-mother-making-tea More going on here than the immediately obvious anstey Tasting Peace Sat, 01 Nov 2008 19:24:40 GMT /section-58-tasting-peace#comments 0 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/86 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/86 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A86 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-91-v.-father-on-the-porch https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-91-v.-father-on-the-porch For the briefest moment, the deer and boy stood eye to eye No black bear nearby, no fish, Only boy and buck. When the deer retreated to the woods, The boy looked down into the snow The body of the tiny mouse slowly revealed By morning’s melt. What relationship the boy might see Between snow and deer, mouse and ice The father could not know. “It is time for breakfast he yelled,” And watched as the tiny face nodded Then lurched up the path toward the house. ... more anstey Tasting Peace Sat, 01 Nov 2008 19:24:40 GMT /section-58-tasting-peace#comments 0 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/91 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/91 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A91 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-88-vi.-son-listening https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-88-vi.-son-listening Why do old men hobble? A deer rustled along the shore Looking for a spot to drink Glancing at the boy, then inching through the leafless brush Atop a pine A bird shuffled and stayed just out of view. On top of the hill behind the house Where the road passes The sound of someone walking Fell through the early morning silence. The rhythm off Two steps shuffle Click. The familiar cadence of a beloved old man. anstey Tasting Peace Sat, 01 Nov 2008 19:24:40 GMT /section-58-tasting-peace#comments 0 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/88 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/88 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A88 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-89-vii.-grandfather-sadness https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-89-vii.-grandfather-sadness Life had been good With salty fish And sweet cakes Thick brown beer And fresh mountain air For decades, There was love Hope And poetry. Below him was the home of his son On the shores of a deep blue lake Today, he would not bring sardines Or strawberry shortcakes Today, he would not bring stout. Only bitter news and soft painful coughing. anstey Tasting Peace Sat, 01 Nov 2008 19:24:40 GMT /section-58-tasting-peace#comments 0 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/89 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/89 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A89 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-90-viii.-mother-moments https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-90-viii.-mother-moments Oatmeal cooled on the table As she prepared to call him from his boyish diversions She wiped her hands on her green terry cloth robe Left then right. She remembered a day When she was still young And blushed to be seen so early by any but her mother and sisters anstey Tasting Peace Sat, 01 Nov 2008 19:24:40 GMT /section-58-tasting-peace#comments 0 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/90 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/90 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A90 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-5250-ix.-grandfather-knock-knock https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/article-5250-ix.-grandfather-knock-knock Ascending the stairs iambically first tap of cane, then thud of foot. He smiles, wishing for days of spondees. The sunlight a moment of joy painting cotton soft memories upon his wizened face . Disturbing his meter, the wooden stairs creak slightly beneath his leather shod feet the light by the door is still on and the sounds of morning bustle give a gentle cadance to the crisp air. Love, Love, Love and life, with death knocking on the door.     anstey Tasting Peace Sat, 01 Nov 2008 19:24:40 GMT /section-58-tasting-peace#comments 2 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/post.php/article/5250 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/comments/feed.php/article/5250 https://dev.shakespearesmonkeys.com/links/trackback.php?anchor=article%3A5250