​More than More

stands and ropes
forever precious 
memories of her
 teeth across 
luster & shine
salt and rain
licking lips 
placing jewels
 over her head
eyes sparkling
then my turn

xo

​light shifts with a page turn
there: summer & now we are here
shorter days - longer shadows
searching for things that hang on
soon it will be gold leaves
now: whatever is within reach
our hearts are blown glass
hanging from taunt strings

xo

August 2021

Several weeks ago I witnessed largeness 
me a shadow of self miles from home 
if such a place exists I don't know it
 here or soon or a thing from before

I remember my mother-in-law as one
who smelled of raspberries & radishes
& the earth she plucked them from
dark soil on the knees of her denim capris

her lip-smack as she took the first taste
her smile when something was gone
emptied: the satisfaction she shared
her gingham blouse thread worn & clean

contentment she wore like a precious jewel
a sit on the front porch in the wicker rocker
the boards under her feet smooth and shiny
like her and what she left behind

xo

​

hot & humid

 kneehigh corn : gathered bales : painted porch : bolted greens  
rains all night : daylight long

and before you or I know it

snow swirls & ice crystals touch the very windows we look out from & to

and we'll want this heat
the longest hours
sun on skin

xo

​

June 2021

I have shared the above photograph in the past of the lilacs 
but this is June and if only...we could hold this will to open.

Again, from Mary Oliver, "Keep some room in your heart for the unimaginable."

June brings us long days, sultry evenings, blasts of thunder, and wild lightning. 
Fireflies and mosquitoes. Brilliant and pesky. The both/and of our precious lives.

What will be left behind? Not the lost hat, the missing keys. 
But what will our loved ones carry when we are gone?

xo

And so flowers arrive; some pushing through wet earth
others driven in a car handed off in a hefty glass vase
gifts of what's to come

I remind myself to look closely 
to learn what they are made of

I was reminded a few days ago 
that we do not live in our bodies
our bodies live within us
this took me to my knees

I planted peas and spinach 
the same day
the same bent knees

Reminded: It's the same HOLY

xo
​

​April 2021
Creek, it is a creek?
stream, brook, runlet 
more than a trickle 
sounds of spring 
under dead leaves: a push
rindle, runnel, rill, rivulet
an awakening
tributary
time
xo

​& then the sun 
going sideways & inside me
stopping me: calling me witness
naming me present 
though this gift a thing 
seen many times before
each one new: promised 
almost but not to be taken 
as always or forever
&
when I am gone, the sun 
will carry on
others will slow: name it beauty
wonder who was first 
who will be the last

xo

​
CENTERING

Centering is what I am aspiring and inspiring towards.

My dad died last month. 
It's hard to think, say, write, feel these words.

This morning I woke crying. 
How is this possible I ask?

 But no one hears me. 
Larry, asleep beside me & Charlie B, good dog, snoozes at our feet.

I'm painting mandalas on rocks found at the beach, 
other rocks I throw in the water just to see what happens.

I've taken my first pottery class. 
I walk in circles.

I am untethered, and though there would be a time this would be divine,
it isn't right now. I'm floating, but not on my back, not like he taught me.

xo