Poet. Writer. Photographer.
Autumn in the South:no warm-hued foliageyet to be found.Faithful leaves adhereto branches,stubborn, tauntingthe November ground. Windows open though,temperatures temperate,and the fresh air I breathe incould not be more perfect.Saturday morning well spentreading, writing, creatingwith and at ease,puppy napping beside meso contentedly,instrumental musicscooping up silencein a loving dance,floating in a reverieof me-time peace,I sip my teaand … Continue reading Weekend Renewal
It was a dark and rainy early Saturday morningthat I felt the rejuvenating movement of air fan the cinders of my soulon the side of the fire neglected for only a short while,yet the glow that yearns the most to be fed seems overly sensitive to the cold. My muses knew and rose to perform … Continue reading Tending the Fire
With the southern summer heat and humidity keeping me indoors most of the time now, I try to get outside every early morning and every evening when it is peak bearable. I very much enjoy having nature largely to myself in the mornings before the world awakens and the bustle begins. This morning, I enjoyed … Continue reading In Passing
I wonder if I were not bound by theme or rhyming schemes what my fingers would bring to life from the depths of me. I wonder if I let myself roam far and away in my mind beyond boardwalk and road where I would end up starting, if I'd dip my toes into my … Continue reading Beyond the Boardwalk
We can walk the beach and climb the mountains, but let's settle down in a cozy cabin in the heart of the forest; my soul is home among the thick-trunked trees– towering skyscrapers, nature's majesties, keepers of ancient wisdom. My hiking boots upon the dirt, my palm upon the textured bark, … Continue reading Take Me to the Forest
I don't know if time heals as much as it wears us thin, loosens our grip on the line, not giving up hope, but giving in to the realization that whatever was on the other end is not coming back, will never be able to be reeled in, and eventually, we reach for the tail … Continue reading The Lines We Grip
The stone children sit, on the ground barefoot, looking at something that has caught their interest, dirt-caked skin, grass-stained clothes, earth rubbed into flesh and soul, siblings bonding, sharing, borrowing, from one another's imagination to create an adventurous land of make believe, adult- and stress- and time- free, timeless memories, innocence of childhood, ensconced, petrified, … Continue reading I Spy a Time…
Today, I noticed, for the first time, some clovers in the backyard. Automatically, I looked for a four-leafed one. Automatically, I was reminded of childhood memories... My parents, my childhood, though not perfect, instilled in me the most important basics. Among these, love of nature. They made sure us, kids, got plenty of outdoor time … Continue reading Clover Leaves
The sun shares its rays indiscriminately, reaching the shadows through trees, fully embracing wild grasses and weeds, as beacons of hope, a needed ingredient for growth, highlighting the beauty already existing, air-brushing landscapes with yellows and white, causing heads to turn toward the nature and light, away from the clouded thoughts darkening minds above the … Continue reading The Sun Shares
My heart is heavy, like the gate I pull open to escape into nature-- my secret garden I've never explored before today... the seasons of my heart seem to pass gradually... the past—vines, lines tracing my history... the future—frosted, magical, snow-kissed berries, whimsical fantasies... the now—fresh greens and seeds blossoming, into what? the shapes and … Continue reading Beyond the Gate
