Dissecting the coffee wave Rochester's unique cluster of third wave coffee shops has grown into an intertwined family tree Broadway sensation Sutton Foster comes to Rochester Broadway star Sutton Foster sings with exactly the kind of bright-eyed conviction, poise, and exuberance you would expect from a two-time Tony Award winner (for "Thoroughly Modern Millie" and "Anything Goes") and originator of roles like Fiona in "Shrek The Musical." Theater review: "The Lake Effect" at Geva Sometimes the person you need to meet is not the person you'd Fate uncertain for South Wedge church The future of Calvary St. Andrews Church in the South Wedge — if it has one — should become clearer in the coming months. A shot of Sambuca When Massimo Albano and his partners, Fausto Albano and Stephen Dimassimo, were looking for a location for the casual counterpart to their successful East Rochester Italian eatery, Lemoncello, they didn't have to look farther than across the street.

The risks we face in the next race for mayor The last thing this community needs right now is major division among Rochester Democrats. But the division is there. RPO announces 2017-18 season The Rochester Philharmonic Orchestra has announced its 2017-18 season, and its "best-of-both-worlds" approach has a lot to offer, including plenty of classic blockbusters and big names, from Perlman to Potter, and some pleasant surprises. It is the middle of a night And my son is still awake Because he cannot sleep. In the living room he seesAnd he calls outSaying the word bee Say the word spider yet and I show him how to capture A spider with a cup. Am holding my one hand Over the open part. Unlocking and opening a Door with my other hand. Telling my son wait or now. Before moving my hand and And the word released is The darkness of a night With a sky that stretches Where I ask my son and He is seven and he likes

And he tries to Say the word Jupiter or How he says a word that is JupiterSounds nothing like it. And we go outside. Outside because we areAnd this is how. How I take his hand and Lie on our backs in darkBlades of grass that Twist against our skin. Of our arms and necks and Hands and legs and feet. My son points up to the sky And says purple and I know Even though it is night. And I tell him about airglow. How it is  radiation From the atmosphere that Makes the sky light up and I say words like atoms and Solar photons and cosmic Rays and how it all emits My son is silent. How he hears me How he is listening but heSay what he is And I try to imagine what The inside of his brain isHow it is filled with Words and phrases and Collect like particles and Form the thoughts that He cannot say yet. I do not know yet. And held captive inside

His brain like that. And I am turning my head Or how the blades of grass Are moving under my head Lying beneath me and I am Turning to make sure he is And I tell him to remember. To always remember how This night and airglow. How it is never really dark. How there is always light When I met you I was only How I wore my bones on The outside like a And tonight there is a super moon,lowes curtain rod corner connector The blood moon, this lunar eclipse,curtain pole finials 20mm And I go outside to stand in thelundby curtains How I see part of the moon,84x96 curtains

A misshapen moon between A smooth and white patella A kneecap moon, I whisper To our children, asleep and For you, because you are away, In a hotel room in New York City, Thirty years, you are saying to Me, over the telephone, now, How this moon will not Happen again for thirty But nothing does, I tell You, how nothing does, And this is our marriage,kabu curtains The moon outside ormocha curtains argos How the years wrap likedunelm cream blackout curtains And tendon and, yes, All of the times I have heard You say no and, then, yes, And your voice is made of words, Syllables and letters that connect And break apart and reassemble

Or us, I say, How the years wrap around Because how many times, How many times has your Hand reached for my face But how each time, each time Is like the moon, I am standing in the kitchen When I hear him, My hands and arms, In a sink full of water, And my son is crying, Who is five years old Not more than two, Two words at a time, How he comes to me Which is what he says When he is upset and This time, this time, I do not know What it is, and He cannot tell me, And I hold him, As if proximity, or How close we are And I tell him, Even though I don’t, I don’t know, or how I keep saying sorry, As if it can make it It will grow dark I will try to tell And he will say no, Because he already knows, Or because I don’t have to, And we will walk My husband and I, Until we are here, Lying, in our bed,

There is war, and A word that can describe The things that happen To civilians in war, The things that the military Pays for, pays Afghan civilians How it is called battle damage, There is a database A car blown up, A man shot, woman I whisper to my husband, In this darkness, how it Feels impossible to know, Know how much Afghans Have lost in this war, or How it is impossible to Add up loss, or To make it go Loss is a hole That we try to My older son is looking Because he is doing math And it is a problem And I tell him how the total Number can be divided into And how, sometimes, sometimes There is a remainder. And I am thinking about my husband Who is gone, deployed, to Afghanistan, A country where men and women and Children and roads and bombs and the Risk of getting killed or having to kill is Added together and the danger

And I only tell my children parts, How he flew on a military cargo Airplane to Turkey and then to Kabul, how he slept on a bunk In a transient berthing station On a base next to the airport And how, how I don’t say the How I have not heard from him In over two days, Or how the airport is where Three men were shot, By a man wearing the uniform Of the Afghan National Army. And my younger son can only Say a few words Even though he is five years old. And he is saying hello and daddy’s car Because he cannot say anything else And because the driveway is half empty. Now it is night And this day is Are asleep or how What they know is Only a part of what The world will teach them, And I am standing, here, in This hallway watching them, And their bodies are still and How they are the smallest Units of matter, how they Are the smallest units that