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She said she felt like
a fairy princess, draped in
blue with beaded swirls.
Undercooked pancakes,
misspelled cards, weeds for flowers.
Love makes them perfect.
Who will you be, and
from where? What will have brought you
here - mere chance or choice?
Rake leaves left over
from fall. Clean porch furniture.
Spring into action.
A schoolteacher in
a barrel did what no man
could - lived to tell it.
Slanting through speckled
panes, turning cobwebs into
faerie gossamer.
Hills like cut paper
black against tissue blue skies.
Through poked holes, stars shine.
Hats, gloves, put away
in optimism return
for winter’s last gasp.
Bergamot infused
leaves unfurl comfort. Problems
dissipate like steam.
From an estate sale -
pendulum clock. Westminster
chimes now count my days.
Emily Bronte * labored quietly but I * scream “Here are my words!”
In the skyscraper
canyons, light outlines moving
shapes sipping Starbucks.
a dilemma of
riches in tiny topaz
the art of language
Mud has a smell that’s
like waking up to coffee.
You know you’re alive.
the constant dripping
nature’s tears of joy as she
sees her world reborn
Days grow longer like
smiles that stretch wider as one
greets a long lost friend.
Like the extra hour
when we fall ahead, this one
day a trick in time.
Today J begins
flying not yet a driver
the sky’s the limit
Handful of turquoise
begs to be strung with silver
draped around my neck.
Grey army trenchcoat
or lime green sixties jacket
J can pull off both.
Teenager curled up
becomes baby J who’s glad
that mommy’s nearby.
Her breath sounds like the
whistle of distant trains bound
for lands beyond dreams.
Her face fronted a
movement, a magazine. My
mind’s jaw drops in awe.
Through the rainforest.
Lunch at Rhythms Rainbow Beach,
then Carambola.
Green Cay Marina
walk. J gets stung, M watches
A Christmas Story.
Green flash at Sunset
Grill on Sprat Hall Beach. Then dined
in lush tropic style.
Wet bathing suits, striped
towels hang from porch rails like
vacation banners.
Island band’s Christmas
tunes with a reggae twist our
dinner serenade.
We eat cereal
on the porch by the sea, while
island music plays.
Intense turquoise, the
water is a wake-up call
to swim, sun, sail, dream.
An affectation,
but it’s cute, and she is for
given many sins.
Fat balls of yarn crowd
my home like clawless kittens,
needling me to start.
Making travel plans,
like getting dressed for a date,
is a leap of faith.
Inside the snowglobe
winter’s still life settles as
flakes swirl in the air.
Summer’s sizzle leaves
me cold. Instead, winter’s white
embrace warms my heart.
Some men hug, but G
envelopes, holds tight, then gives
back more than he takes.
She’d buy Free People,
match and mismatch carelessly,
revel in oddball.