If I sit quietly, and go back to my living room in Des Moines—to the red velvet club chairs, black couch and homemade stereo cabinet, I can still hear the music that played like a score through my childhood,—Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass's "A Taste of Honey," Andy Williams's "Hawaiian Wedding Song," and numerous Firestone Christmas albums that were the score to my young life. Our living room in Iowa was always filled with music. The notes curled through the living room where my dad kicked...

To me, the enjoyable thing about writing is seeing what words, experiences, images or sounds will send a poem my way each day. It seems the more I find them, the more they show up. Like many of you I was making a pot of homemade Turkey soup the other day and pulled out a bag of baby carrots, and to my delight, this sweet little pair of "carrot pants" fell out. "Look," I said to my husband... there's a poem here." He just laughed. I guess he is getting used to this now." This morning, after...

The dishes are sloshing in the dishwasher. The tablecloth, with bright colored evidence of our gathering, waits to be put in the dryer. And I have been enjoying walking through my house, seeing memories of grandchildren, laughter, and delicious food around every corner. I hope your Thanksgiving was as lovely as ours. The inspiration for my poem today. Today is Poetry Friday, and I was lucky enough to have a poem land on the branch outside my window this morning. I did what a poem always...