poetry
Mama Earth Is On Her Moon
Mama Earth is on her Moon. We are the first days of her menstruation, the heaviest flowing. She releases the nest we were building in her body. She does not
Porch Time
Yesterday a red-tailed hawkFollowed me home. He knewI had felt alone. These are days to wear softnessOn our skin, to hold ourselves tenderIn hugging hands, with forgiving fingers.These are days
#30: Between & Beyond
I am the vine sneaking through open windows. I want to reach the rosemary. My touch is neither kiss nor grasp, but between the two between yes and no and
#11: Water Yearning to Be Free
Some days require more space to be sad a grandfather clock tick tocks back to bed. there’s time for worn blankets and warm cups of tea time to listen to
#5 Take Time to Write Poetry
Undocumentable The lens of my life focuses on others so that I do not focus on myself. Shift my gaze to a horizon’s border searching for sun beams undocumentable. I
Learning in “The Wild” of Yosemite
After three months of living in Yosemite National Park, with limited Wi-Fi and even more limited time, I have arrived back at…my keyboard. Back to some sense of ritual and
