01 Wednesday Apr 2026
The stirrings in me
are the stirrings in You,
a thread binding us that vision can not seek yet
heart and belly play, both, as one instrument
of longing.
Call up my voice,
that which is Yours
and sing,
sing,
sing
through me…
31 Tuesday Mar 2026
I wake with birdsong
while all is dark,
apple blossoms, lotuses upon the branch,
sweeten the air as I mourn.
Spider drops down into the sink
to sip from a droplet of water.
What we lose now makes way for what is to come,
there’s more yet unimagined
that will light our way…
12 Thursday Mar 2026
Death brought me into this world,
I didn’t want to stay.
But my lungs kept screaming for air
even as my willingness to let their fluttering stop
strengthened.
Too much pain, this embodiment amidst the suffering,
unsupported emergence of a vulnerable being
while arrows of unconsciousness fly.
How to bring it back to Love
even while..even while…
10 Saturday Jan 2026
Big cat walks the night snow,
steps broad and lingering.
What entices you to the neighborhood,
crossing unpaved road, garden wall
to gate?
Under half moon and lifting dawn,
I wink in your direction,
wherever you sit post-stride,
perhaps
watching me.
Welcome dear one,
glad we’re both out for the stroll.
31 Wednesday Dec 2025
Sky begins purple today,
Her gown cloudless,
elegant with tree lace and shapely limbs.
Worlds within worlds surround,
our globe a small gem placed among them.
Breathing in purple cleans grey
from the lungs, gathering to blossom
one cold dawn breath at a time.
Day starts Creation anew,
let’s see what imagination can bring.
06 Thursday Nov 2025
Stuffy air,
music turned low,
one of two fans rotating slowly.
The black and white photographs of yesterday,
framed moments of distant, lonesome,
beautiful lands, suddenly gone.
A grumpy, dark-mooded barista does her best
to make no eye contact while handing drinks over
the bar.
Old guys with papers, young women with computers,
the morning still holds close to this room–
a strong, clean autumn wind begs
to clear this place out.
15 Wednesday Oct 2025
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≈ Comments Off on In circles
Time, in circles, rolls and spirals on..
we’ve been bamboozled and blinded by firm
starts and finishes–
Yes, birth to death,
but this existence is no line.
Pluck a stitch and you’re speaking with your grandmother,
dead long thirty years back.
Pick at another and your future babies,
whether this life or another,
giggle in morning thunder.
Our brains have been trained
by unnatural and convenient beliefs
unrecognized as such.
Put on a pair of enormous shoes borrowed
from a stranger and step..one
two three..
backwards to gather a new look
at the vastness of stories dancing about.
Teach your eyes to see the impossibly invisible,
what tires and confuses you now becomes,
in truth, a consequential but very funny
game–
remember your heart
and play it well.
14 Tuesday Oct 2025
When it comes to surrender,
better drink three hot cups of faith
following dawn.
Watch the light grow and, as your belly softens
in warmth, your eyes will braid upward,
adrift with the steam.
This life isn’t up to you,
not really, but the soporific of control sells.
Sit in your pillowed chair, stare out your version of
the sash window
and know, Mystery weaves us.
Our work is to listen for its music
and step into the slipstream,
longing and beauty our tiny rudder
within that flowing power.
12 Sunday Oct 2025
An acoustic guitar and a train track beat…
we’re chugging rugged countryside,
rounding bends,
wind streaming through open windows.
I think I’ll watch every dry yellow leaf flutter
and fall,
each flock of grass nod, swish and bow to the sun.
Sometimes grief’s a tar sticking in the lungs
and working to let it go means little
but waiting, waiting becomes the story,
waiting until it decides to let go of you.
The strum will fill your warm heart
as the clack-clack rhythm moves you through time–
be with what is,
it’s got its own magic, which you hold
and holds you,
growing in clarity, in beauty
somewhere on down the line.
22 Monday Sep 2025
Autumn,
time of longing
and remembrance
rolls in pale liquid light.
Yellows, softness, dry and sombre.
Mountain cold drops, magpies dip
and squabble.
Why fear grips me isn’t fully known.
Begin again, the season angles into quiet,
a blanket across empty lap.
Salt, Smoke, Water and Stone 