Sunday, December 31, 2017


There is a sense of place, 
that I have found sweet and best,
quiet, leaving barely but a trace 
where love may now must rest.
Each close, touching yet graced apace,

Tucked in gently beneath my heart.
Mine for you and yours for me,
counterpoint, counterpart,
love placed so, set to softly carry
my soul sustained as I impart:

from my thoughts far you will never be
Having sought, and found this revered lee

Sunday, December 24, 2017



You wrote for my eyes 
I miss you always.
I read and reread that, 
Cry or smile?  do both. 
and, miss you as well.

Never imagined this life,
I’d live so alone
Where once I shared
All within your arms

we both knew
love gives no
Guarantees of forever

Yet I
choose: remember


Saturday, December 16, 2017


I have leaned
against the length
of your body,
wanting more.

Leaned resting there,
into your warmth,
letting my own body
soften into
along yours.

I have leaned in,
whenever seeing you,
into the idea of us, 
leaned in simply
for the nearness
of you.

I have leaned
yearning, asking 
for, wishing
to give more

Leaned so far
past center, 
yet I could,
would, with you
lean far.

I have leaned,
desired to meld,
for you,
in balance,

I have leaned,
trusting the fulcrum 
made between only
two points

Monday, December 4, 2017


Dusk’s treetops gold-tipped,
as you once brightened my days,
sunset hues recalled
past sorrows -small, stupendous-
to where life is still sweet.

Friday, December 1, 2017


What ever do I know?
standing by an ocean inlet,
sun off the turbulent currents,
not much. particularly about love,
I am out of practice.

nor have the knack,
a sea scorer paddles 
hard and slowly past.
diving in and out

making better headway 
than I am.
sun sparking off 

turbulent currents
making headway. 


Thursday, November 30, 2017


Once you wished for me love devoured 
in the sweet dark hours. oh how rare such 
love can be

Tuesday, November 28, 2017


Wishes and wants.
Rarely go to form, do they?
Omission, and the sins of…
not the worst but, can still hurt.

Rarely go to form, do they,
think you tried telling me.
Not the worst but, can still hurt.
Wish you had, honestly. 

Think you tried telling me
maybe friendship would’ve done. 
Wish you had, honestly,
maybe that was ever all you wanted.

Maybe friendship would’ve done.
Omission, and sins of…
maybe that was ever all you wanted.
Wishes and wants

Wednesday, November 8, 2017


I come to the end of the day
in search of solace, gazing, 
to watch the sun set, blazing. 

As evening blues go gray,
leaving clouds in hues still amazing,
I come to the end of the day
in search of solace, gazing.

I come allowing this drama to convey
a soul beyond woes, appraising       
the day’s regrets, long past chasing,
I come to the end of the day.
In search of solace, gazing,
to watch the sun set, blazing.  

Tuesday, October 31, 2017


Read on an old blog of mine. 
after all these years,
a new note, bringing tears.

Someone wrote of a find, 
asking one once in our sphere,
of an old saddle with your initials signed.
Reading of you, will now ride it, cherished dear.

We last only as long, thus I remind,
as our memories are held clear,
time moves on past lives that once shined.  
A new note, sadness, a smile, tears
after all these years.

Thursday, October 19, 2017


Almost imperceivable, night lightens into day 
and the first sounds are of birds stirring,

And now again is that time, simple delight
of geese wings overhead whirring, 

And I listen to the many voices, duets 
calling to each other, then to flocks. 

In the barely brightening daybreak mists, 
now again is that time, wakening to cracking shocks

And, from across the marshes, comes 
echoing to my ears that sharp, low thunder. 

And now listen to the forlorn call of one 
flying in unison with another no longer. 

Tuesday, October 10, 2017


Sun has set,
and dusk is falling

Listening, a pair of eagles
aloft, chirr-chirr-chirring
high in stilling air

Leaves hanging, twisting
in skies darkening, simple
silhouettes graying, fading
Intervening blues

Wednesday, October 4, 2017


Woke this day to sun-kissed mists,
sweet smell of hay drying well.
Memory evoked, near and gone
light and sharp as glass.

Grateful for all that has passed,
all the hay in lofts, al the anniversaries
thirty years long.

These the part only the heart keeps.

Monday, August 21, 2017

8/21 monday

The moon, already on its journey across the sun, 
Shrouded that brilliant orb in transmutation,
Daylight to dusk.

And slipping into the warm waters under 
Those pin oaks, with sharp awareness of this 
Attenuated, lucent light,

Realized this strange, changes air has the same depth 
As on that last day when I walked out of time, 
Away from you,

Into another forever. 

Thursday, August 17, 2017


Missed chances to say,
As worry kept me
Small and still,

Even as soul cried out
Speak, say, love you.
Missed chances rued.

Wednesday, August 16, 2017


Watching evening clouds 
Puff into glorious billows.
Traditions long upheld.
I watch the rainbow hues

Puff into glorious billows.
This little dog seated by me,
I watch the rainbow hues.
You would love

This little dog seated by me.
Alba, not here yet a week,
You would love
This quiet heart, mellow spirit

Alba, not here yet a week, 
Traditions long upheld, 
This quiet heart, mellow spirit.
Watching evening clouds.

Saturday, July 8, 2017


Resting in soft late evening breezes, 
a deep front rolling in overhead.
Ah, to live so close to tidal waters, 
spindrifty sounds, dewy salt air.

A deep front rolling in overhead, 
pattering rain near, thunder distant. 
Spindrifty sounds, dewy salt air,
rhythms lulling over into sleep.

Pattering rain near, thunder distant, 
turn facing the freshening winds.
Rhythms lulling over into sleep
darkening skies past sun’s bright heat.

Turn facing the freshening winds,
ah, to live so close to tidal waters.
Darkening skies past sun’s bright heat,
resting in soft late evening breezes.

Saturday, May 20, 2017


Life's a will-winded symphony, 
a gorgeous shining, aching chant
sweetly singing together. 


Love is not delicate, 
So rock it for the sweet
Gift it is.

Thursday, May 18, 2017


Time waxes true through
a thousand essential moments.
Live with beauty.

Tuesday, April 4, 2017


How three dimensional flying is:
the blue deepening above
is similar familiar.

Among, then below, windrows of sun painted 
ever changing cloud-bergs skidding
across sky shoals,

Hiding beneath looping curves of silvered rivers,
crossing softly green grayed farm fields dappled 
by purpled shadows.

Different densities of  air

How three dimensional grieving is:
the blue within deepening 
into similar familiar.

Among, then below, windrows of hurt color 
ever changing depths of pains skidding 
across soul shoals,

Hiding beneath the looping curves of the heart,
crossing softly grayed emotions dappled 
by purpled sorrow.

Different densities of air 

Tuesday, March 21, 2017


Tugboat slips upriver, a whirring glide
Under skies blushing into nightside.
Fleeting time to last,
Too quickly gone past,
Like me, rushing to keep with the tide

Monday, March 20, 2017


Banners sky sweep shades of Prussian blues
Clouds softly stretched 'gainst turquoise hues
On indigo edges
Songs from sedges
Waterfowl call evening adieu

Thursday, March 9, 2017


What soap is to the body,  
my mother in law would say,
tears are to the soul.
For a long time I have felt that way.

My mother in law would say,
put on a believable façade.
For a long time I have felt that way,
Present the appropriate nod.

Put on a believable façade,
Guess I've known.
Present the appropriate nod,
the quiet heart alone.

Guess I’ve known,
Tears are to the soul,
the quiet heart alone,
what soap is to the body.

Wednesday, March 8, 2017


Ah, the vagaries of placement.
Of being not quite in the correct place,
Hovering again behind

By just a bit too much, missing again, 
Out of contention, no chance at the cup.
Left ever pushing

Against a kudzu karma of tedium, aware
My latitudes aren’t right, but not quite 
Accepting my longitudes.  

Ah the vacillations of situation.
When one knows the correct place but
Can’t get there,

As there is just out of reach.
No ribbon, no ring, no laurel leaf,
Falling again untangling,


Monday, March 6, 2017


I am now used to waitresses 
not knowing where to park the odd person. 
Seven? Yes, I am the odd number, 
I am the odd five, odd three, odd one. 

Not knowing where to park the odd person, 
can’t she just sit at the bar by herself? 
I am the odd five, odd three, odd one.
What to do, she still doesn’t fit.

Can’t she just sit at the bar by herself?
I am thankful friends include me, 
What to do, she still doesn’t fit,
as I continue to figure life out.

I am thankful friends include me, 
seven? Yes, I am the odd number. 
As I continue to figure life out,
I am getting used to waitresses. 

Wednesday, March 1, 2017


Grief, will you come talk to me? 
I could talk to you, I could say, 
You are getting too comfortable in my life,  
I don't want you always in my day.

I could talk to you, I could say, 
Quit ruling my life,
I don't want you always in my day.
Not front and center, not constantly here.

Quit ruling my life. 
Talk to me, I am listening. 
Not front and center, not constantly here.
Change is so frightening.

Talk to me, I am listening.
You are getting too comfortable in my life,
change is so frightening. 
Grief, will you come talk to me? 

Saturday, February 18, 2017


a day of mermaids wringing their hair,
sheets of water falling everywhere  
muddy poodles rollicking and frolicking, 
soaking wet, exuberance to spare.

Thursday, February 16, 2017


quiet fogs, call them shadow dreaming, 
visions falling into voids, leaving
time waxing through beauty coupled with rue.  
thousand essential moments, grieving

Tuesday, February 14, 2017


sleep, crisply cool sheets, cats snuggled, too  
dream, aways evolving, deja vu
wake, a pearly gray softly raining day
remember, once you warmed me, adieu

Tuesday, January 31, 2017


A glimpse
Out the window,
Sliver of a gift,
Only five minutes.

Out the window,
White, black charcoal,
Only five minutes,
On gray toned paper.

White, black charcoal,
Dusty fingers moving
On gray toned paper,
A sweet, silvered moon.

Dusty fingers moving,
Sliver of a gift.
A sweet, silvered moon, 
A glimpse.

Friday, January 6, 2017


For seven years I have slept without you
With  the memory of you
By my side.

And here on this night I sleep
without our dogs, With now only the
memory of them

They two are gone and I am empty,
Memory of all lost, you, them, dear
In my heart.