senescent (poem)

Senescent (adjective) growing old; aging. Cell Biology. (of a cell) no longer capable of dividing but still alive and metabolically active. As in: trees laughing leaves, dropping down on me, floating in the wind. I catch a handful of laughter, toss it back in the air. As in: the hidden beauty in growing old, in death, revealed and … More senescent (poem)

Besides the Autumn Poets Sing (poem by Emily Dickinson)

  Besides the Autumn Poets Sing by Emily Dickinson Besides the autumn poets sing, A few prosaic days A little this side of the snow And that side of the haze. A few incisive mornings, A few ascetic eves,— Gone Mr. Bryant’s golden-rod, And Mr. Thomson’s sheaves. Still is the bustle in the brook, Sealed … More Besides the Autumn Poets Sing (poem by Emily Dickinson)

One More Day

The wind whispers in the leaves, “Change is coming, can you hear it?” Autumn breezes softly blow and colors subtly change. The wind scatters the few fallen leaves like my thoughts. That is when I remember the Holy Spirit moves like the wind, a gentle reminder to me that He is here, moving, working, the … More One More Day

Poetry (quote)

(photo source: unsplash)   Poetry is language used with intensity. It is not, as so many suppose, decorative speech. Poets tell us what our eyes, blurred with too much gawking, and our ears, dulled with too much chatter, miss around and within us. Poets use words to drag us into the depths of reality itself, … More Poetry (quote)

A Shift With Rain

    A Shift With Rain A long wind brushes its fingers through the trees in a stretched whisper. On occasion, it moves angrily, and other times, it shakes and howls at the windowpanes. The long whispers flutter sweetly, softly, welcoming the listener into the conversation. Not yet as angry as a winter wind, the … More A Shift With Rain

Summer Can Stay

  People are ready to roll out the pumpkins. Me? Not so much. Maybe it would be true, if I still lived in the south. Because I live in the land of a seemingly endless winter, I grasp onto every last sliver of summer. (I know what’s coming each fall, each winter, and even spring: … More Summer Can Stay

Breadcrumbs (poem)

Breadcrumbs Lights dim, ceiling closes in envelops words Whispers disappear into bread I bite wine I drink I bow my head, my prayers absorbed into celestial darkness (Souls drifting by in darkness take no notice of slipping stars) Souls glancing at others shift their gaze and slide along Take a bite Souls seared by time … More Breadcrumbs (poem)

unspoken words (poem)

Where do uspoken words go Forgotten in some collective conscious of empty, unwritten volumes, filling dust lined shelves Perhaps filling oceans replete with missed opportunities and golden intentions Perhaps tossed on the wayside of unknown gardens, wildflowers growing amidst weeds in unkempt fields, beauty dotting overgrown, abandoned grounds Perhaps haunting our dreams, shattering our nights … More unspoken words (poem)

Seeking Peace

        Summer days are full of activity. Neighbors are out of their homes, walking their dogs, tending to their yards, bringing home groceries. It is late afternoon, the windows are open, the breeze is blowing and birds are chirping. A cicada out sings the others. In the evenings, the once quiet air is … More Seeking Peace

Fire Pit (poem)

Flies, bees, fireflies whirr in summer heat circulating like blood in a heart, pumping much needed oxygen to weary limbs that would die without air What stays, stands near, surrounds, envelops the air, the outline of our skin? Dig a hole, build a fire pit, watch flames consume wood and throw all manner of discards … More Fire Pit (poem)

Moonrise (poem)

Moonrise Will you glimmer on the sea? Will you fling your spear-head On the shore? What note shall we pitch? We have a song, On the bank we share our arrows— The loosed string tells our note: O flight, Bring her swiftly to our song. She is great, We measure her by the pine-trees.   … More Moonrise (poem)