STARDREAMING With Sherry Blue Sky

  My dad, Brick Baker, in the late 1940's My family is Irish, so ghosts are a given: ghost stories as a child; my father's ghost smi...

  Nepal landslide, Reuters photo A mountainside crumbles in Nepal, an earthquake buckles the ocean floor in the Atlantic, a Kelvin wave floo...

  Jared Lloyd photo I once worked in a place where hurting hearts came to heal. As I walked the path, each morning, I found so many heart-sh...

  "R-H-Y-T-H-M" Sister Catherine pontificated, from her desk at the head of the room. Grade nine. My introduction to rhythm, to po...

  Small bird of my being, you flit about inside my mind like a hummingbird beating its wings against clear glass. So too, you have flickered...

The jays chatter on my front lawn, squawking over seed, as if this life will go on forever, and the seed will always be there. This is hope ...

  Wild Woman never hurries any more. Her pace is slow and stately, like an old barge, plying stagnant waters. Sometimes she yearns for a tug...