Recently I was asked, “why on earth do you write?” I was taken off guard by their question. But they persisted. “I mean, what’s the point of writing?”
I considered their inebriated condition, which was a full-on slurred Vodka slosh, and simply replied, “I need to.”
However, while their question…
Where do you need to go
on this fine crystal set morning?
a dove gray glory
hardly awake
and yet the threads of your dreams
connect you to the day
kindly set before you.
One plate with responsibilities
and another with demands. …
The fogs sheerness laces the valley
draping her stole over the houses
touching the fences
meeting the grounds graces
adding an element
of mystery and contemplation
as words form in their magical oasis
not quite here
and not quite there
today, though, there are fewer tears
for the energy given…
There are days when the rain feels
like the dull sound of pewter
stretching an opened hand
echoing inside a collective chamber
ping, ping, ping
slowing the sound of time
into its steady, dripping drizzles
Coating the land
greening the ground
puddling with the quiet
stopping one’s rushing
and inviting you
to the tilted world…
Recently, I got the best advice from my mentor. I was talking about how I had a string of demands and felt taken advantage of and how these past few weeks I kept getting caught in a loop of over giving.
She thoughtfully paused and said, “Be like a cat…
I sit here, fully aware
I’m actively daydreaming
into a mysterious space
and still listening to the sounds
of my round cat’s snores.
This quietness pulls me into
its profuse puddles
and somehow
I’m still linked
to the clear blue sky.
I find myself drifting
again and again,
into a word mélange
or…
Those early mornings
when the hour
has yet to turn into daylight,
darkness is the chalice I sip from
hearing the mumbles of nightmares
still clawing their way into my awareness.
The shadows aren’t even awake.
Morning should be called death’s dawn
for something dies a little each night
from scratching…
Clearly, when flowers speak
it’s time to listen
especially if it’s from
unabashed pink daisies
they called to me
soaking in their round tub
next to other honey-scented
petals of perfect perfusion.
I could barely contain my elation
but somehow, I did
as I skipped
one-two-three
while watching
a-waltzing of women
take turns
wondering which clump of…
What words are longing to be shared
on this frosty morning
as I daydream
over the edges of rooftops
My eyes latch onto the horizon
dappled with evergreens
the air hints of questions and purpose
while I curl a bit closer to warmth
Instinctively I reach for my mug
drifting and…
The snow is melting
in a tundra of white thunder
with a steady drip, drip, drip
falling quickly
I hear the roof sighing
as the gutters are crying
it all feels too dreary and weary
Yet under the crunching
I sense a swell of growth growing
wondering and waiting to be seen…
