Yearning

Somewhere there are sheets of blue icestitching up the last of the open water,but I am not there, only memory servesto dish up that young woman in hernew figure skates, striking outover the frozen pond, what those livingin worlds of water call a small lake,and Boom!...

Forgiven

I could write about the tiny Arabian horse,her pale matted coat grown to maximumfor the winter, nature knowing what her childrenneed toward the end of life, once lusterand beauty as only youth can confer; later,stripped back to essentials, hip bones protrudingover...

Circle of Life

Nothing is ever a mistake, not evenwhat we toss into the maw of a waitingdonation bin, our acquisitionsand castoffs equally important to usin their time; And aren’t we a part of nature, brightflowers blooming their prolific heads offout there in the garden, then...