Posted in Photography, Poetry
A season in Maine

The summer
sails by
swift on the wind
too fast
to hold the petalled lips.

Too hot
to absorb the days
the sun sinks.
Posted in Art, Poetry
Grandpa’s barn — pieced fabric
With home in the distance
and the dandelion chains grounded,
i jostle my memory again
dream of days spent carefree.

Watching butterfly wings grace grasses

—grown, in a star’s twinkle

home.

Seeking out salamander’s rock ledge.
Finding fox’s buried bones emerge.
Dipping toes in granite pond.

Stirring grandma in the kitchen.
Windowsill of blue jar pickles.
Pies and noodles baked delicious.

As the cow’s path erodes.

Yesterday, trE posted a challenge to write a nostalgic childhood memory in five words, on her blog: A Cornered Gurl . I took it a step further and wrote a poem as I recalled the magical summers on the farm.

Life is bittersweet. Under the layer of happiness is another layer of grief. And we build the mountains steep.

Posted in Photography, Poetry
Who can love ever so sweetly
the fragrance of a lilac bloom, midwinter
when the scars of summer subdue
and the fog of autumn morn,
cover the lips forlorn?
Posted in Photography, Poetry

Winter Feast

If I stopped now
would i know tomorrow
the blurred foxglove in hand
the brandished iron in the other
staking the outcome by name.


If yesterday never arrived
do your best dear friend
to remember love
the petaled feet
I swept away, one-by-one, by hand.