light
a quiet beacon
sacred fire
comfort shroud
a promise made
flame keeper
no surrender🪶
Category Archives: Writing
In the Wind
lightness of being
this is your last breath
what is there to hold back
the attraction to falling
inhale
deep as you can dive
close your eyes tight
twenty seconds is enough
time
consider options
no distractions
go on go on
give in to lachrymose beckonings
succumb
it’s a dirty old village
perpetual tears and moaning thrive there
look over the edge
listen
symphony of the abyss exists
exhale
but don’t go
you don’t have to go
it’s only today you’re on hands and knees
from your belly
survival summons
between your core and the earth below
soft winds of possibility whisper
last night
did you see the seven planets
effulgent angels dancing
can you feel the touch
the kiss of this new morning
hope and promise in your sky~
Slowly with Pure Intentions
beneath snow packs
somewhere water
purifies all
already past
a few drops
a trickling
new routes
in terra weave
listen
your tranquil heart
life’s rhythmic drum
beats eternal
glimpse
rainbow reflections
disguised as you
within a glass orb
balanced on bare limbs
fragile as breath
stellar’s jay laughter
breaches the quiet
of forest’s winter sky
unseen
like promises
you swear
to the mountain
to keep~
My Bountiful Messy Garden
an attraction to change plants seeds
the crack in a stone wall
the slip of light through a rusted key hole
the fragmented reflection in a broken mirror
the view beyond the window’s ledge
the transformation of summer spaces
what if
the grass on the front lawn retired
got buried with a gratitude farewell
wheelbarrows of soil laid the last blades to rest
curious pink worms explored cool dark mounds
beetles burrowed in and built new villages
a new lumpier landscape slowly emerged
yarrow and lavender and white sage
ferns and daisies and sunflowers
a dogwood a fig an apple a peach tree
a garden of leaves and possibilities
bees hummed and butterflies lingered
deer feasted when the red chair lay unoccupied
left behind their delicate hoof prints as thanks
colours and shapes spread out and grew tall
in the shade before sunrise I find my true place
sit still
in quiet voice read verses aloud
breathing deep and humming
one of so many tenants alive and thriving
in this bountiful messy garden🪶
Gallery
so easy just to stay home
rapt in my own attention
yet to thrive outside
of a dream shouldn’t a person sometime
take a stroll? chance to change
sigh and step out of comfort’s reverie
if just to look at what lies out there
Maybe.
I aimed for the gallery
I heard the show would be one
worthy of effort
of wearing boots
combing hair (sort of)
cake wine and talking
walking into crowds
noting timbre of voices
sifting through shapes and heat
but the rain—
here it rains a lot and so what?
I have a red umbrella
but parking—
there’s patience and an app for that
enroute I met the young one
a help me sign and an upturned hat
five bucks in his hand to appear I am kind
oh yes art is good for a soul
even if rain blurs my view
it gifts opportunity to think
who designed that red brick archway
maybe in summer an installation
can feature there.
please do not talk to me when I am
gazing into artworks
taking in means me taking time
sometimes falling or slipping inside
artists speak deep through their works
but you must be quiet to hear
The gallery is alive
a population rich with wordless
beauty celebration exploration provocation
help cries questions remembrance exaltation
I signed the book illegibly
identity being less important than
the sincerity of my response
I nicked one more chocolate covered
strawberry before my exit
the man resting under his sleeping bag
in that doorway seemed
happy to see me🪶
Breath, Presence, Gone
Were you there, unblinking
to catch the sight
of the pink shoe taking flight
from a hurried woman’s mid step
last Wednesday?
No camera lens preserved it
though there may be others
who return to the smile maker memory
In the moment, scenes
arrange themselves
no director calling
no X cues on any floor
improbable improv unintended
You or I,
privileged serendipitous witness
accept the award with grace
its existence ours to keep, or
so we believe—-
While in the photo we captured
tacked with satisfaction
inside a frame only
a skeleton remains🪶
The Psychology of Obscurity
You could fall any time
you think of that rank helplessness
not often but there it is now
your visitor chirping awareness
again while you sit looking
Suspended in speed and shallow breath
you scroll through options
rational existence first shivers then
shreds at the edges
lets go like pages of a many times read book
Flutter falls not without grace
toward your shoes jammed against
the bag of things deemed essential enough
to accompany you from here there to there
then vanishes into the dark beneath🪶
Two Roads
thirsting for water
a roadside bookshelf
offers direction🪶
Where Now Your Story Line
Begin with a thought even if it’s a lie or emerged from a morning dream
Think not of anything but the scratch of lead against paper
Are you one of those whose fingers do not know the feel of a pencil
or the echo in an empty room free of all inspired distraction
Go ahead or run behind but hover always in the moment
for it takes just half a breath before it’s already too late
What have you done with all those memories
abandoned behind a bedroom door when you made your last move
Turn down your light or you’ll alarm the wild life
You’ll need them if you ever want to get out of here.
Spring
Winter earth
Hints of Spring
Ice sings a ripple song