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December Confirms The June Woman
It is June and I stand poised on the landing of the half circular staircase. I am hearing the strains of the Canon not heard in this, my lifetime. Shocked still, caught in the shadows of half remembering and yet reluctant to confront the shaded memories, I wait. She is visible, the young woman gliding…
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Times Such As These
I lock up the room after filing the last remnants of words laying about unattended. Fearful that pieces of my heart may be found scattered among them. And why not? Times such as these leave us with little salve to heal the open wounds which once were hearts. For whom do we weep? The children…
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time’s past
crystal chimes strike porcelain ears, seizing time from memories, past. the music heard from times’ near past, tangles in the wind of muted sound; and we live again.
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Everlasting Memories
Beginning with this post, I will be featuring poetry I have used over the years in hand crafted Christmas cards. Many of my readers might recognize a line or two from years past. I wish to add my voice to the season to bring forth memories to be refreshed for new readers and also those…
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A Deep Drink
As the evergreens drink deeply in preparation for the long winter, I, too, turn to portions of my Self already stated and prepare. The journey for both is through dry country. The oasis will not be found except within. I carry the water to the evergreens as mine , too, is carried to me. As…
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The Housekeeper
[twocol_one] [/twocol_one] [twocol_one_last] There bellows a wind around the turrets of the mind’s house, ripping under gutters, sweeping under eaves, leaving no residue. Clean, chaste as the sweet wind, stands she exalted. Prudently swiping at corners to eliminate even the shadow of contamination on her brother’s name. In good time, in due time, the world…
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Come Into My Kitchen
Come into my kitchen and use the back door. Only dear friends are allowed to walk right into the center of my home. Others have to earn the right by walking through the halls of my life to get to the heart of my home. But you can come to the back door. I will…
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The Strange Bequest
There was a man, a slim man, whose head was bedecked with a white cloud and whose eyes saw dreams he could not articulate. He sat one day staring into space and when I questioned him, he said, `I am sitting and watching the grass grow.’ I hesitated far too long and have lived to…
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The Autumn Night
The velvet night plays host to the September moon hanging in suspension in liquid air. Cold, crisp edges seal in the lunar landscape, forgetting for the moment, the hot sky which sealed our noon. There comes the night, in desperation relieving the cloddish insensitivity visible in the unrelenting stubbornness of the day, unable and unwilling…
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My Song Goes Out
My song goes out on the morning air and penetrates the sky to where the stars hang heavy. My lyrics ride the beams that will meet the sun and hang in mid-day until even the grass hears the melody or the mourning. Look who it is! they say. She speaks to us and we hear,…