The Coming of Spring and Butterflies

a photograph by Sonja Bingen, our daughter



Filed under Art, Photography

The Cloak

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

 The earth dresses in
the cloak of humanity,
but it does not fit.


Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems, Poetry

Lake George in the Adirondaks

A photograph by Alazanto, Kevin Davis, our son


 Note: We just found this photograph by Kevin in Ethel’s email. Whenever we find some small piece of his creative output we are excited even after all this time. Kevin was living in Poughkeepsie at the time and made a trip north to Lake George. Later he took Ethel and I to visit the lake during our visit to New York to see him.


Filed under Photography

The Silence of Old Men

by Thomas Davis

 As old men sink into their silence, words
Become entangled in the memories
And moments that are like a flock of birds
So dense in time and space they start to freeze
The meanings that an old man means to say,
Or be, or clarify to those who’d listen
As if he still had thoughts that might convey
Some sense beyond the silence of his person.

Inside the living room I watch his eyes.
I feel inside myself and try to hear
The silence as its heaviness denies
Old age’s bucketful of pains and fear —

And as I watch I know the old men in their silence,
Their frozen faces and their look of patience.


Filed under poems, Poetry, Published Books

The Place Where I Walk

photographs by Ethel Mortenson Davis



Leave a comment

Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, Photography

The Builder

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

We were hoping
to catch a glimpse of
the one who made this place,
a summer home
by the water.

We wanted to see him or her,
but we keep missing him.

Perhaps if we rise
early in the morning
when it is still dark
we will glimpse this one.

Or if we delay in the evening,
when the summer light
lays on our shoulders
for endless hours,
we will see the builder.

I know he or she has left gifts everywhere,
like the pile of stones
at the water’s edge.

It is a masterful display
of color and size,
each one shiny
from the motion of water,

a universe within itself.




Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems, Poetry

In the Time of Miracle

Our grandson, Joey Bingen, has severe autism. He is fourteen years old and cannot communicate with words. He does have a couple of sign language signs and uses them when he wants something, but has basically not been able to communicate with his parents, brother, or anyone else. Then . . .

Screen Shot 2016-09-21 at 1.56.14 PM.png


working with the therapist he wrote this message on his iPad, which, in the past, he has only used to play games. He has followed these words up with additional communications, the beginnings of written conversation. Fourteen years of silence and then words!

Where will this sudden ability to communicate lead? What will it mean in Joey’s life? His parent’s life? His grandparent’s life? Ethel and I believe in miracles at the moment. We believe in miracles.


Filed under Essays, Photography