Blog
Poetry
Dusty Feet in the Sea
From pulpit to pew the words land wrong, wrestling with each other. I ask, “What will I lose if I lose myself to You? What will I leave behind?” It’s too much to consider so I remain as I am. Or is it that I have returned To find You waiting in my dust and have...
The Nature of a Tree
Walking through the woods in an icy winter snow when breath becomes crystallized and trees bejeweled Or walking in the spring when a tree births new buds and leaves trails of sweet scents to linger Or napping beneath a summer umbrella of limbs as breezes, scarves of...
The Pumpkins Are Going to Make It
I think the pumpkins are going to make it this year. There must be enough in the neighborhood to keep the squirrels eating courses, traveling from house to house like we’ve always wanted to do ourselves: first course at Winnie’s, second at Connelly’s , third at...
Up Against the Shore
It is anchored there, like a buoy of protection, informing me of my inability and limitations, as if to say, “Do not swim beyond this point, silly child.” The ropes, north and south, define the boundaries. But I am stubborn, the sea beyond looks bluer. The sun...