Poetry

Boots crossing the brown sugar field
at twilight
dog pulling on the leash
and sun angling down like a lure on a hook
low in the sky... more

In my father's nightstand
is the drawer
Where he keeps a man-sized
Hershey bar... more

I’m feeling particularly sad today
I let my monster out
She screamed and raged and stomped around
Feeling quite justified in her exasperation.
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I am not Joan of Arc.
Oh I could have been her for a week or two.
I might have heard voices,
I might have worn armour,
But when I got tired or scared
I probably would have gone home.
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There are forms that reside in granite and in marble Unseen Until the sculptor's tools Reveal the form within Waiting there all along. more

The little hands separate vanilla wafers from chocolate until the plate holds only vanilla. more

I sit with my left hand fitting / on top of the well-groomed head of our cat, / My fingers between his perky ears and lean jaw / That lean into the massaging of my hand... more

Another Saturday
the sun shining brightly
the radio raucous with song
the house deathly quiet.
My children grew up.
They are not here. more

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