Category: Poetry

  • August. . .

    August It is August and there is a sliver of breath inside the sill. The deep breath of Autumn is, I think, a matter of time; perhaps only in the memory of the child anxious for the world of new books to open. Anxious for the toys of summer to be put aside to make…

  • My Sister, My Earth. . . .

    My Sister, My Earth. . . Like a compass, I stand, breathing deep and at the end of my arm stands the ancient city and at the top of my head the north wind still blows. Cooler by far during the last month of the year but still refreshing. How to love this Earth whose…

  • The Pain of Thought. . .

    The Pain of Thought. . . They speak with their doctors, their counselors and those with backward collars that they are anxious. And cannot explain the panic and the night sweats that engulf them even in their sleep. They read they say all manner of  books and articles on positive thinking and watch only those…

  • Comforts . . .

    Comforts. . . There is a comfort in being surrounded by familiar things. After a lifetime of use, they are as old friends needing only me as a companion. My books follow my travels begging not to be left behind. Only those I have visited often can lay claim to shrinking space. My tablets,  journals, …

  • Process of Change. . .

    I had just put the dog out and as she limped  I  thought  it did not take away from her exuberance in the moment. We often think our present problem spoils everything.   It will if we allow it to.   We can learn to overlook or look over the problem, physical or otherwise to see that…

  • No Space To Grow Bread. . .

    No Space To Grow Bread. . . They are young, you say, with hormones raging in bodies having no desire for libraries and no entry monies for museums. . . In these places where soldiers in perilous times are forever sowing seeds of freedom, with farmers tilling soil of rocks and clay to feed the…

  • In Prayerful Consideration. . .

    Everything teaches . . . and not being one to allow opportunity to be lost,  I caught the moment and brought forth something long on my heart.  Even as a child I gave my mother dyspepsia  because of my questions.  The God of my mother was so busy watching this 8 year old to keep…

  • As The Script Was Being Written. . .

    Oftentimes as we age,  we wonder, and some of us are prone to wonder a lot, how to have done things differently.  And  considering what we knew at the time,  what situations presented,  the conclusions reached are that we did the best we could.  We gave it our best shot considering.   I understand that on…

  • By Whose Authority. . .

    By Whose Authority. . . . Your house is too small, he said and now we will expand. . . I will not put you out with the vultures, but what you will know is that I continue to love you. And will tell you winter comes again and you will see the sun rise…

  • Promises. . .

    A Chance For Love. . . Each time is a new time, cast in the shadow of a rock, a cave, or even a cove. . . Simply set and inspired by a rolling coast, a sunset, a glimpse of a new place. . . New tidings of good cheer, a glass of sweet wine,…