Midnight’s Journey

Dust sparkles like frost on the window in this little piece of heaven
where the quiet warrior sings of forgotten lands
She’s a lonely orphan who learned to fly
away from the cold, dark city where the air stifles
and silence floats like a heavy blanket draped over subdued stars
Now even her casual sigh charms birds from the trees

Advertisement

I Am

I am strong
I am fragile
I wonder how the story ends
I wonder how it starts
I hear breathless whispers as the clock runs out
I hear breathless whispers as life begins
I see each mistake I’ve made painted across the sky in angry red letters
I see each accomplishment adorning this simple bouquet of fragrant flowers
I want to believe
I want to believe

Born Again

With a sprig of lilacs in a room for meditation,
the willow woman twisted and pruned each bloom
A huntress in a roomful of secrets and vibration

Her knife, the cutting edge of perfumed salvation
welcomed demons, goddesses, and intentions to exhume
with a sprig of lilacs in a room for meditation

Spring

Spring wriggles free of Old Man Winter’s grasp like a taste of lime and honey in afternoon tea. The perfect elixir to chase away those blues I see. Her warriors, the fuzzy yellow bumble bees, make sweet music in the garden over by the sea. Humming, buzzzzzzzing workers in groups of two and three. Oh Spring, Spring. She anoints the

Complete Wonders

And on my knees I accept these small wonders,
to refute my starving madness with a heart that wonders

I skate on the surface of serenity here in the elegance of morning
where even my muse with her detailed star charts wonders

the summer breeze blows and beckons in heartbeat moments
and though I am alone and apart, my soul wonders

Dear John…

I can’t help but laugh
It’s the best choice I’ve made
I can find sunlight in the darkest shade
I suppose it will be my epitaph

Scorched

The fire was mostly extinguished by then

From the little shack up there on the ridge
she could see trees weeping ash

tiny deer gathered by the salt lick
seeming almost drunk in their confusion

eagles with singed wings still soared above
it was a magnificent sight

at least from the limited view she had

The Counselor

 

Sometimes I lay awake in the
dark and wonder what might have been
if…if

Would the person I was way back
then even recognize this world
of lies

Daffodil Queen

All or nothing on a
bright afternoon
Crowns of
daffodils, each
fanning out in
glorious green and
heavy with
ivory yellow blossoms

Little Blackbird

The little blackbird is dead
No longer will I wake to the
cheerful song she sang
each morning from
the old oak tree outside
my bedroom window

Mending

Set upon the hall table
sunlight streaming through grand windows
I examined its cut glass corners and
sparkling facets casting perfect rainbows

the epitome of undefined living

To Be Divine

Fear is a puppet master, pulling all the strings
while Hate is a prison guard, holding all the keys
Rage is the spark to a flame, orchestrating chaos

On Finding Clarity

She wakes to walk the streets at dawn
the sky dresses in purples, reds, and golds
Examining the empty storefronts, she wonders What will become of this day
the stillness of the space brings comfort
She addresses the blackbirds and says today will be kind

Healing Spaces

Tobacco hills and tangerine skies
painting my way across cold memories
with a heart, stoned and stowed away
Practicing the art of self-healing

Desert Dreams

My soul craves solitude —
a walk in the desert
to collect my blurred thoughts
and so I’ll go on a journey

Lady Luck

Four-leaf-clovers and a rabbit’s foot
horseshoes, dice, and ladybugs
Such are the tools
of thieves and fools

Simple Wishes

I dreamt I was waltzing under the shade of a great tree
unafraid as a ghost passed through the garden gate
I caught our reflection, his and mine
in a billabong swollen from the night’s rain
He was more alive than I could ever be

After the Fall

show me what I’m looking for
a reason to believe
after the fall

Late Night Secrets

betrayal beats a slow drum
stealing life with each to and from
lies undefined cloaked in behavior unrefined
stolen hearts, unrewarded and intertwined

Starry Night

this is a day to be pensive
a moment for quiet reflection
a time to ponder
time

Wisdom

Some days I am a lion
strong, proud, fierce
I know no fear
I am mighty

Some days I am a fish
caught, filleted, starved for oxygen
I bleed on old docks
alone

Red Bridge

There was power in its name,
this river that was really nothing
more than a creek with brackish water
and tall weeds tangled together
like teenage boys learning to fight
and desperate to find hold on muddy banks

Mourning Morning

Tricks of the night
revealed in dawn’s light
mourn magic and missteps

Tempestas

the scent of rain promises possibilities
a chance perhaps to wash away the old

and embrace the chill that follows
as if to reckon hard realities

People Watching

I am a thief
I steal your words as they fall from your mouth
I watch as you shrug off your ill-fitting garment and dance in the rain
I capture the moment your face lifts slightly
I memorize the way your beaming smile transforms the moment

Tranquility Cove

healing waters caressing a lonely shore
healing hearts meant to mend
mend a spinning mind
mend tiny scars

Discontent

blue lace and old high top sneakers
empty bottles and half-filled glasses
raindrops punishing window panes
propped open with broken sticks
our favorite song stuck on repeat
it blasts from that old radio
as we dance in the dark
and search for serenity
in a room starved for air

Growth

Witness renewal
born under burnt skies
and frozen fields

Strength finds stability on shaky ground