Pause

There is a pause, before the rosy light of eveningblinks her last, as fragile hummingbirds ceasetheir whirling dance around feedersand the incessant cackle of jays, the waterfalltrilling of blackbirds, retreat to the deep armsof the forest as night creatures...

Ink Not Yet Dry

The longing to be loved is profound, the soul sings life into being, a journey not yet taken, yet once in progress, so often reprising experience already inked and dried, fading on paper not meant to last; The manuscript is not complete, we are all unfinished works in...

Let It Be Me

I would rather die laughing, even if I am the butt of the joke; Life has too many twists and turns and not enough levity, yet not for lack of instances that might provoke hoots of delight; I remember in college there was a gal who wanted to write about serious things,...