Writer? Who, Me?

  I remember when I first identified myself as a writer. Or rather, when someone else identified me as one. I was in 7th grade. My English teacher asked to speak to me after class. I made good grades. Usually never any trouble. The model student.  What could this be about? Mrs. Batey asked me… More Writer? Who, Me?


Diaspora   Close eyes Weaver knits wind tails Dreammaker ignites fire Reach, catch a tail, flipping fast, skim invisible air Grab this one or that— tail of another fantastic— Soar through days, ripple like waves surge through  moments twirl through realizations A trail blazes, sears, splits sky— fills the deep with words dared spoken— The… More Diaspora

When Home

When Home     It isn’t simply the camellias or dogwoods that draw me home but a string that pulls, pushes Appalachia aside and drags me under the Chattahoochee with the catfish.   I resurface in the creek down the street, catch my breath on a blanket of pine needles on banks of sticky red… More When Home

99 Year-Old Stories

I’ve been walking by the river these days, while the temperature hovers between warmish and cool. I love watching the wind blow the leaves off the trees; the leaves are whisked in the water, landing softly, swirling their way with the slow-moving current. The leaves float along,  slightly submerged, but not overcome. I walk by his… More 99 Year-Old Stories

Psalm 27

1 The Lord is my light and my salvation—     whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life—     of whom shall I be afraid? … 4 One thing I ask from the Lord,     this only do I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord     all the days of my life,… More Psalm 27

Autumn Leaf

Autumn Leaf Beautifully curling upward, Cupping droplets that land on its skin I take my finger, wipe the drop Leaving a skirmish behind The autumn leaf is like a heart Turned toward heaven Changing colors, singing in its death— I wonder, Leaf, how many songs have you sung? * I wrap myself in a coat… More Autumn Leaf

unknown gardens

Unknown Gardens   Summer shadows flutter, golden light filters Through lovely shades of crimson crab apple – the magenta blooms have long since faded and dropped to the ground,  fallen among the rocky hedge and tanning mulch– Disappeared to become one with the land   She isn’t there anymore, but I can still taste the… More unknown gardens


  Switching Adjust boom windward As storm approaches— Gales and waves toss us Like a child’s toy boat at bath time Can you see the storm approaching? Jibe, tack, plant cautious feet Don’t play around like a child at bath time Mind the mature and callous sea The crew, longing for land, plants cautious feet… More Switching

The Guest

The Guest     He tramples on my azaleas, barges right in— no ringing   the bell or hearty knock– plants himself right beside me   on the couch. Of course. The old tusker won’t leave me alone,   ribbing, winking, and nodding my direction all afternoon. When   guests leave, he arises, takes long… More The Guest