a back toughened like sea glass/ praises, appeals, insults/ words with the intent of knives

We did what you must have done/ nearly four million years ago –/ followed in each other’s footsteps. 

Butterflies open their wings,/ Brittle, weary,/ Crucified by the stamp of time,/ The wind says a prayer

here, let’s say,/ we begin, seeing/ ocean spread, bluegreen motion,/ moving within herself under

The Sakura or cherry blossom is a reminder of life’s fragility. They enchant for one week each year 

We carved child initials/ Embraced by heart/ In beech tree bark/ In November gray/ As if our child hearts

On the sidewalk the lollipop lies/ in melting wonder that ants/ haven’t found the goodie/ to lick

the windswept night yawns wide so much like me/ the cosmos weary of existence all/ it seems gets

A single pine needle spins/ in a gyroscopic eddy// near the rocks to the entrance/ or exit of a backwater

Let not mine feet stay idle,/ Nor my footprints fade away/ But walk tall and remain able/ To harness the

Standing on the shore, I see/ His board greets his oceanic buds/ Gently stroking the sea with each

As a child, I hid under a writing table/ Draped over with an old vinyl sheet/ The overhanging green

She wants a Valentine’s day poem./ But I can’t just pick up a poem/ on the way home from work.

Monday came softly,/ Sooner than advertised,/ but otherwise

in all its/ Mondayness,

Autumn in the live oak forest. A single/ sycamore holds forth its dying flame.// Wild brimstone-yellow

The alpha day has arrived./ Snowmelt reflects the faces/ stunned by this fevered moment./ Steeples

As the moon flickers in space and time,/ All is calm, all is ready to roar/ Maybe the storm is approaching

The loveliest dawn dwelleth in the bosom./ A mild magic word rests far below./ A balmy spark flying in the soul.

dogwood blossoms, white & pink/ tiny dresses or ideas of prayer// too pure to be pure/ too many

The world around my wrist/ with its blue cargo/ of days and oceans,/ with its secret jewels