Carpenter Sunrise From my window I see branches dripping gray fog. I face a long day heaving heavy boards, testing my brittle back, glasses wet with sweat, porcupine fingers bristling splinters, shaping lumber with a clear heart. +++++++ Carpenter, carpenter,... Continue Reading →
April in Indiana Squall clouds romp and rumble east, flashing memories of the root cellar located in my grandparent's back yard. An underground bunker born out of fright from Palm Sunday tornadoes in 1965. I remember the static on our... Continue Reading →
Morning Joy The sudden birds of morning, then the light and the distant line of horizon, knife-edge of the world. The air is keen with rustling. I hold this, I hold all this, saying Yes. About the Poet:... Continue Reading →
Poet Dreaming No sky could hold so much light. —Mary Oliver Poems are nomads paddling through darkness collecting words from the arms of Orion, Sagittarius, and Perseus before camping in a poet’s dream. She sees souls as colliding galaxies, holes... Continue Reading →
The Cottage I've grown quiet here. My mind has opened to woodsong and the smell of earth turned by a trowel. I enjoy solitude, even when regrets or the throb of an old lover happen by. Sometimes I invite them... Continue Reading →
On Being Twelve When I was twelve I longed for the sleek Schwinns My friends rode to roam the neighborhood. They were shiny, swift, and cool With skinny tires and three-speed gears To help with hills. An adolescent status symbol... Continue Reading →
Poetry Breakfast 