A Tidings of Magpies

A Sight in Camp in the Daybreak Gray and Dim by Walt Whitman A sight in camp in the daybreak gray and dim, As from my tent I emerge so early sleepless, As slow I walk in the cool fresh air the path near by the hospital tent, Three forms I see on stretchers lying, brought out there untended lying, Over each the blanket spread, ample brownish woolen blanket, Gray and heavy blanket, folding, covering all. Curious I halt and silent stand, Then with light fingers I from the face of the nearest the first just lift the blanket; Who are you elderly man so gaunt and grim, with well-gray'd hair, and flesh all sunken about the eyes? Who are you my dear comrade? Then to the second I step--and who are you my child and darling? Who are you sweet boy with cheeks yet blooming? Then to the third--a face nor child nor old, very calm, as of beautiful yellow-white ivory; Young man I think I know you--I think this face is the face of the Christ himself, Dea...

by Bob Greene Editor's note: CNN Contributor Bob Greene is a best-selling author whose new book is "Late Edition: A Love Story." (CNN) -- Richard Nixon had been president for less than two days, I was 21 and visiting Washington for the first time, and I decided that I'd like to see what the United States Senate looked like when it was in session. I had come to Washington to watch the inauguration; this was in January 1969, and after the political turmoil of the year before, it seemed like it might be interesting to travel from the Midwest, where I was a college student, and witness the swearing-in. Now that was over; Nixon was at work in the White House, and before departing town I made a stop at the Capitol. I don't know what I was expecting when I stepped into the visitors' gallery of the Senate -- maybe something filled with drama, like in a movie. Maybe high-decibel, finger-wagging debate, with all 100 senators standing and asking for the floor. What I enc...

by Charles Simic Of neighbors' voices and dishes Being cleared away On long summer evenings With the windows open As we sat on the back stairs, Smoking and sipping beer. The memory of that moment, So sweet at first, The two of us chatting away, Till the stars made us quiet. We drew close And held fast to each other As if in sudden danger. That one time, I didn't recognize Your voice, or dare turn To look at your face As you spoke of us being born With so little apparent cause. I could think of nothing to say. The music over, the night cold.

Farrah Fawcett. A woman I don't believe reached her potential as an actor, but what the hell do I know?? She was gifted enough to be able to show strength and vulnerability coinciding in her characters. Below is a tiny snippet of a role she had in The Apostle with Robert Duvall. I think maybe her best role. And Charlie's Angels--what a lark that was given the hullaballoo of the seventies. In any event, rest well, Angel. Death could not dim your beauty.