No Kings tomorrow, Saturday March 28! Be there!
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I’m sharing this from The Chaos Section Poetry Project. Please help if you can.
Gardening Lessons
Gardening Lessons
“I have kept this secret long enough. My silence ends here.”
–Dolores Huerta, Statement, March 2026
Unquiet, the silence
of victims and survivors
threatened by abusers,
and self-doubt,
flowers wilted
by bold, bright stars—
tossed as weeds,
buried
in silence
of the complicit
floating on quicksand,
comfortable with dirt–
indifferent, they look away
from what’s planted,
their scattered seeds
grow.
A quadrille (a poem of exactly 44 words) for dVerse using the prompt word, silence.
I still hope all those involved in Epstein’s horrible activities are disclosed and brought to justice. The man in the White House and his minions and handlers don’t want the truth to come out. I’m certain many have been silenced.
Meanwhile, last week, there were shocking accusations made about Cesar Chavez. Dolores Huerta and others have finally broken their silence.
Here is her statement. Content warning for sexual assault.
Of Hammers, Bells, and Light
Monday Morning Musings
Of Hammers, Bells, and Light
“Well, I got a hammer
And I got a bell
And I got a song to sing
All over this land
It’s the hammer of justice
It’s the bell of freedom
It’s the song about love between my brothers and my sisters
All over this land.”
–Pete Seeger, “If I had a Hammer” (1949)
“Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean”
–William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, “Prologue”
From fogged tongues
of slate and ash, now come
color-dyed clouds
after the brilliant breath of blue,
come merry yellow, butter-rich,
and shades of chartreuse, lime, moss
to heal the heart
of winter-darkness,
of hammered dread
and endless speculation,
of destruction–
come birds in rounds
of song, and arrows of flight
that pierce the sky
with joy, and love, not the rage-skein
of human warbirds
metal winged, smashing eggs
and life,
laying only blight,
cast off unclean hands,
rinse hearts and psyche
of disapproving clucks
and shadows calling the shots,
open the gates
to the possibility of flower song,
ring the bells in joyous tintinnabulation
for spring’s light is a gift, a celebration.
Hello again! I will be happy when I don’t wake every day wondering what horror happened overnight. That anyone can defend the deteriorating and demented felon, rapist, probable pedophile is beyond me. And I really do blame the people who voted for him. How could you not know what he is—and he’s so much worse now. So, you didn’t like the price of eggs?! I don’t know where this will end, but I’m afraid it might get worse before it gets better.
And yet, and yet, and yet—it’s spring. And life goes on.
Last Monday, we were under a tornado watch for much of the day. Then the temperature dropped, we had some windy and cold days. Then the sun was in and out of the clouds, we saw some beautiful blue skies, the daffodils started blooming, and now it’s rainy and dreary again. Oh, March!
We had another busy week—mostly good.
On Thursday night, the virtual session of one of the book clubs I’m in met for a discussion of Ray Bradbury’s Something Wicked This Way Comes. It was a small group, but a lively discussion. One person hated the book, several were disappointed, and then some liked it. I didn’t love it, as I expected to. I know I read it decades before. I love the concept of the evil carnival and the time-merry-go-round, and Bradbury’s writing. Overall, I was glad to reread it, but the book does seem dated now. My husband thoroughly enjoyed re-reading the book. I’m happy to see him reading novels again.
I very much enjoyed Skylark and My Name is Emilia Del Valle. I finished both, and now I am zipping through The Correspondent, for an April Blue Cork Book Club meeting. It’s hard to put down!
On Saturday, we returned to the Arden Theatre in Philadelphia. (They have two theaters in the building.) This time to see Romeo and Juliet. My husband and I both thought it was an excellent production. Both Romeo and Juliet seemed like the young teens they were, caught up in the blood feuds and hatred of their elders. The costumes were a mix of current and period styles. The staging was very well done. Some actors spoke from up in the audience—including right next to us—and Juliet’s balcony was high in another aisle. Then we went back to Old City Vino—because why not? We’re happy to see they’re doing so well. And we loved this wine.
On Sunday morning, we had to make a call to the plumbers to fix our toilet. We only have one, so it was an emergency. We were very fortunate that he was able to come right out, and we were still able to get to our usual Sunday morning protest. This time they had a small brass band, which was fun.
For some reason, my family decided it was Sunday call Merril day—which was a lovely surprise. I heard from my sister-in-law, then older child FaceTimed me with granddaughter Sylvia, then later that night my niece called me because she read some beautiful (and surprising) cards my dad had sent to my deceased sister, her mother.
I made us pizza to eat while we watched the Peaky Blinders movie. (I froze two for another time.) I finished our wine from Old City Vino, while my husband drank a “special” beer. Since it’s just come out, I won’t say much about the movie. I liked it, but probably not as much as the series. But Cillian Murphy as Tommy Shelby—well, I could watch him all day. Tommy Shelby is not a good man, but he’s such a compelling one, especially made so by Murphy. Some of the characters from the series were there, and some were not. As usual, the cinematography was great and so was the music.
Meanwhile, this senseless, unnecessary war drags on. There was NO REASON for this war, and dumpty has no clue. As well as oil, fertilizer production has also been slowed or stopped by the war, so global food supplies may be affected. The felon is still demanding that the draconian SAVE Act be passed, in another attempt to disenfranchise voters. And yes, we are still waiting for the Epstein files and numerous Epstein revelations.
(Here is today’s letter from Heather Cox Richardson. She is going to be talking with Timothy Snyder on Wednesday. Check her YouTube page, where you can find all of her talks.)
Keep writing and calling your Congress people. Call out the lies. Tell your friends what is going on.
No Kings, Saturday, March 28, 2026—that’s this week! Find a No Kings event near you here!
Look for the helpers and be one if you can.
Reverberations
Reverberations
Straddling generations with your name,
your laugh is redshifted memory, and hers is blue-
lighting every space like a star—a baby’s gift–
vaporizing doubt like a meteor because you believed,
in us–that was yours. You never met your namesake,
and yet, there’s that laughter, prisming color, enduring.
A name acrostic for the dVerse prompt. Sylvia was my mom’s name, and my granddaughter, who just turned a year old last month, was named for her. My mom had an infectious laugh, and at least right now, so does my granddaughter.
Prosery: Assessment
Assessment
During those years, we measured time in fragments of survival—seconds of still-here-at-sunset, at dawn. A few minutes of no one is dying. A dinner hour when we had something to eat—never enough, but something.
We ticked off each day of existence, but we left hope on the horizon.
We were real bodies in a surreal world. Sometimes I thought, “it all belies our existence.” We wait and are still denied more than bare-boned subsistence. How could we think of joy, or of love amidst the daily pettiness and cruelty—until the war finally ended.
But it never ends for those who were there. It slinks in like a black cat and settles in my dreams. It may wander off but returns cuddling the demons in my mind.
The minute hand is ticking. I’m even more determined to slay the monsters—forever.
A flash fiction piece for my prosery prompt at dVerse.
The prompt line is:
“It all belies
Our existence; we wait, and are still denied.”
From
“Winter-Lull” by D.H. Lawrence
I’d prefer to use the lines as inspiration. In my mind, this story is part of the non-linear, spy tale I’ve been telling for years in the Prosery prompt, but I realize it also fits many times and places, including the present. I took the photo at an exhibition on the Surrealists at the Philadelphia Museum of Art last fall.
Sustenance
Monday Morning Musings
Sustenance
“Try to stand still, if only for a few moments,
drinking light breathing”
–Marie Howe, “The Maples”
I drank light this week—
light with birds,
and light with wine,
not ritual or rite, absorbing,
I sipped shadows
with the light,
cool, dark, astringent
like the wine
that I sipped with light,
chased with laughter
of friends, with friends,
among friends,
the light glows brighter,
as I sipped it
with wine
and without
there was snow,
and darkness
though stars beyond, and within
that darkness,
ghost stars still send light
that I can sip
as my own ghosts flare
in memory
rooted in blood and soul
as the oaks and maples in soil
around me,
as I lift my glass
to drink to the living and the dead,
all the survivors
emerging like spring flowers
to grow in light,
sipping it, as air
I, they, we
breathe,
and the currents exhale with whispered sighs
unfurling fish-fire glow, while the gulls laugh.
Hello, again! In addition to the unnecessary, undefined, not war-war the US is involved in, this month of March seems determined to have us experience every type of weather in a week. We’ve had sunny spring days that turned warmer and sunnier, then rain turned to snow, then very windy, cooler days, sun, clouds, and today we have rain with a wind advisory and the possibility of strong , possibly severe, thunderstorms later in the day. There’s the possibility of hail, tornadoes . . . .locusts, plagues, . . .
Steve of Song of the Day (Canada) joked that he wanted to see more wine and food photos. I forgot to take photos of dinners I cooked, but we did get out this week. On Tuesday, we went to William Heritage Winery—and sat outside!! Without jackets!! We enjoyed wine flights, and then my husband had a sandwich, and I had a delicious mushroom and goat cheese flatbread. I took half of it home.
On Thursday night, we went to music trivia at Blue Cork Winery. Our daughter, who works there, and my husband hosted their father-daughter music trivia. This time she chose songs from the 1960s to the 1990s, and he chose songs from the 1990s to the present. I sat with a group of our longtime friends—and I should have taken a photo of us, but I didn’t. As usual, I knew few of the answers, but I had a good time with my friends, as we drank wine and ate pizza. We didn’t come in last!
On Saturday, I attended dVerse’s Open Link Live event. It was a small, friendly group, and we did a lot of chatting, as well as reading poetry.
Then we saw the play, Good Bones, at the Arden Theatre in Philadelphia. It was a mostly sunny day, but with a cold wind, so we didn’t walk around too much before the show. I really enjoyed this play by James Ijames. It’s set in an unnamed city, but apparently Ijames had Philadelphia in mind. It concerns a well-to-do Black married couple who are in the process of renovating their house in a gentrifying district. He came from money; she grew up in the nearby projects. He is opening a restaurant. She is working to have a stadium built in their neighborhood. (In Philadelphia, there was a recent plan to build a basketball stadium that would have had destroyed Chinatown.) When their contractor learns about it, friction develops. The house also has history, and there are ghosts, but in a magic realism way, not horror. Maybe they’re the house’s happy memories. We are fans of James Ijames—loved his play Fat Ham, which we saw first streamed during lockdown, and then live at the Wilma Theater. He received a Pulitzer Prize for it. We’ll be seeing another of his plays at the Wilma soon. Ijames is working on a new play co-commissioned by the Arden and Orlando Shakes based on Zora Neal Hurston’s Their Eyes Were Watching God.
After the play, we went to Old City Vino, where we had a delicious Negroamaro and a cheese platter. I really like this family-owned business.
On Sunday, we protested at the weekly protest, but left a little bit early because it was cold standing there in the cloudy cold and wind. I should have worn my winter coat. I like that they also collect for pantries.
The first daffodils in our yard are starting to come up.
We finished the final episode of Peaky Blinders last night—what a roller coaster ride! I loved this show. Now we’re set for the movie.
And speaking of movies, I didn’t watch the Academy Awards, but I read about them this morning. I guess we’ll watch the Best Picture winner, One Battle After Another, at some point. For some reason, I keep forgetting this title. I’m not a big fan of Paul Thomas Anderson’s films. I’ve liked some, and I haven’t liked some. It didn’t sound all that appealing to me, and I thought Sinners would win. I’m pleased Jessie Buckley won Best Actress for Hamnet. I think she’s an amazing actor. I’ve loved her in everything I’ve seen her in. I also enjoyed the best foreign film winner, Sentimental Value, though I thought Secret Agent or It was Just an Accident would win. I liked them both very much, too.
A bit of fun for people who like words. I keep forgetting to mention
A Way with Words podcast. People call in or send emails with questions about words and expressions that the hosts can sometimes give them background on and sometimes not. I just happened to catch the show a few times on public radio.
Don’t forget No Kings is coming soon, Saturday, March 28! You can find a protest near you here.
Also, the felon is still trying to get the SAVE Act passed, so pressure your Congress people to vote NO. It’s coming up for a vote in the Senate, tomorrow, I believe. There is no reason for this bill, except to disenfranchise much of the population. It works the same way as a poll tax, which is illegal. Republicans are determined to gerrymander and disenfranchise because their policies are unpopular. Many people do not know where their birth certificates are, and their birth names may not match their married name or their name that has been changed for whatever reason. This could include trans people, adoptees, or people who needed to change their names to escape an abuser, as well as married people who take their spouses’ names or who both change their names. Many people do not have passports and cannot afford to get them.
Don’t forget about Epstein and his global trafficking and connections. I am certain the felon in the White House is involved in some horrible things, including raping children. But follow the money . . .Al Capone was convicted of tax evasion, not his violent crimes.
Tell people what is going on. I was talking to a woman in the park who didn’t know the US had bombed a girls’ school in Iran! I don’t know her political views, but she was upset about this war.
From Megan Rothery, who comments nearly every day on Heather Cox Richardson’s Substack posts:
“Use/share this spreadsheet (bit.ly/Goodtrouble) to contact members of Congress, the Cabinet and news organizations. Call. Write. Email. Protest. Unrelentingly.
Reach out (beyond your own) to as many in the Senate and House as you can. All of this is bigger than “I only represent my constituents” issues.”
I’m hosting dVerse today, so I’ll be back later.
Random Cat photos–box and basket:
Look for the helpers and be one if you can.
Advice Considered
Advice Considered
Poets,
(we’re instructed)
don’t write of birds,
without imagery,
striking and unique—
heron as last-man-standing,
or as deserted, steepled church–
show, don’t tell.
But how do I ignore
the rose-tipped notes
dropped in robin’s song,
the smokey, dripped-ash warnings
croaked from mouths of crows?
For dVerse, where we are asked to write a quadrille (a poem of 44 words) using the word “bird.” In my part of the world, we’re enjoying a few days of unseasonable warm weather. The birds are beginning to chirp and sing of spring, perhaps looking for mates, too. Not a full predawn choir yet, but robins are beginning to chirp before sunrise. (American robins are members of the thrush family. They’re larger than European robins, though named for them because of their red breasts. We have large flocks of them. At least some of them here in S. Jersey remain all year. They have a very cheery song.)
I’ve shared this cover before, but I really love it. If you’ve never heard it, it’s worth listening to. It’s from a few years ago, but the preservation of indigenous languages and culture seems particularly timely in the current political climate.
Time and Rivers
Monday Morning Musings:
Time and Rivers
When dreams die,
no longer dazzling or
delicious, decayed,
dashed on rocks,
deaccessioned
from the mind,
yet held
in a file, marked “Someday,”
I think how we exist,
sometimes awakening
the universe–
our own individual universes–
with if and after
love, illness, war,
a migration of thoughts, like birds in spring,
spring will come,
the ghostly onion sun
will become a peach,
flowers will raise their faces
to it and smile, open their mouths
to sing
with the robins
already forming their pre-dawn choir,
and the goose and gander will gather –
soon there will be goslings,
while the river and time run,
always forwards, never back,
never stopping as they sweep
us along,
the way dreams do.
Hello again. We switched to Daylight Saving Time yesterday. I hate these time changes. There is no reason for us to switch back and forth. Fortunately, I don’t have to follow a schedule, except my own internal one, so right now, I went to bed a little later and slept a little later (as did the cats). But what an unnecessary annoyance for those who must get to work or school!
And then there’s the war, that might be called a war or not, depending on who is speaking and when. And the spineless Republicans who can’t say no to the decaying and diminished man in the White House who wore one of his baseball caps (on sale at his online store!) to the dignified transfer of the remains of six soldiers killed in his unnecessary and probably illegal war. I wonder if people who voted because they didn’t like the price of eggs are having any regrets now. What will they say when we face all sorts of shortages and sky-rocketing prices for oil, gas, and electricity, as well as a faltering economy? How can anyone still support the so obviously deranged man? Obviously none of them care about the girls killed in the school in Iran. Are we going to attack Cuba next? What is going to happen here? He is so desperate to cover up the Epstein files and to stay in power that he will allow anything to happen. He, his family, and his cronies here and abroad just keep getting richer. But at least Noem is out. And yesterday when we were out at our local weekly protest, which formed as an anti-ICE and pro-immigrant rally and includes giving items for local food pantries, it seems to me that there was mostly and more positive support. There were a couple of men who yelled “F—k you” at us in VERY angry voices (so angry because people care about others?), and a few people gave us the finger, but there were lots of loud honks and voices of support. Standing on that corner in springlike weather was much more pleasant than shivering there a few weeks ago.
Last week after my sister’s funeral—was that only a week ago?—the weather was rainy most of the week. It was grey and dreary. If it wasn’t raining, it looked like it was about to. I didn’t do many walks outside. I did get out to breakfast one day with my friends, which was delightful. (Thank you, Pat and Irene!) We’re going to have a few unseasonably warm days before it gets colder again. We actually had a beautiful sunset last night instead of grey, and we now have lots of crocuses in bloom, and green shoots starting to poke up from the ground. Yes, I’m looking for any beauty and joy now.
Open Windows:
On Saturday, we streamed the movie, The Secret Agent. We had seen previews for it months ago, and I had wanted to see it in the theater, but we kept missing it. I was very confused at the beginning of the movie, but I liked how the pieces of the story were revealed and fit together. It’s set in 1970s Brazil during Carnival season, and it concerns a research professor who is trying to escape the hit men who are after him. This is the time of the military dictatorship. The man finds refuge in an apartment house with others who are trying to escape. The movie has surreal and amusing scenes, as well as thriller moments and gun fights. I’d like to watch it again sometime. Here’s a review from NPR.
Yesterday, I participated in Paul Short’s The Book Bag Open Mic. It was an intimate group with outstanding poetry, and Paul is such a great host. You can follow him on socials @paulwritespoems to find out about the next one. He also hosts a writing group, which will meet again on Zoom at the end of the month.
We started Season 6, the final season of Peaky Blinders. So, we’ll be ready for the movie. 😊
Current reading. I should finish this book today, Skylark by Paula McLain. I needed a Merril book, and this one, from my local library fit the bill—multiple timelines, characters I care about, and beautiful writing. There are recurring motifs/metaphors of life underground and above ground in Paris—and birds and rivers!
The next No Kings protest is scheduled for Saturday, March 28. There are three large protests planned in my area that I know about: Camden, Glassboro, and Philadelphia. Find one in your area here.
Look for the helpers and be one if you can.
Now When We Are Living in a Darkening World, Poem up on The Chaos Section Poetry Project
Thank you to editors Nick Allison and Rachel Armes-McLaughlin for selecting this poem for publication in the anthology What We Hold On To and for sharing it on the site. You can read the entire anthology for free, and/or purchase a copy. It’s a wonderful collection!
I’m sharing this with dVerse Open Link Night.
Yesterday and today: Merril's historical musings 