Poet. Writer. Photographer.
Natural beach tangleballsmessily woven with care;the tides tidy the past,clean up the yesteryears, least-cherished experiencesready for burial but not at sea,rejected from the oceanto keep the present clean. From the depths, the debrisfrom storms and dune erosionget collected and rolled like snowballsand returned to the shores, sand burial for these non-treasuresheavy in the chestthat successfully … Continue reading The Past In Your Palm
Barefoot atop the deep waters,white dress and wild tresses flowing,sunken-ship cemetery of the past beneath,I twirl in this present moment. The sea is mineas my dance floor,and I skim across to my pick of shores;I explore, I vacation, not searching, just jubilationof losingworries and fears,exaltation of the lightnessof the lifting of those stormy years,each moment an eternityto … Continue reading Sea Dance
Dense fog advisory. Dark, early Saturday morning. Mild temperatures. A perfect time to... head to the beach! I make my coffee to go. I love fog and mist, as I do rain and thunderstorms...something about the mood of this kind of weather invigorates my soul. It is another clue in the discovery of my own … Continue reading Inside Clouds
The journey, they say, is in itself the key;I've been downevery wrong roadmultiple timesit seemed, but to surface, I wish I could say unscathed, with the treasure of mein this mirror now heldsacred, I'm hesitant to lay blameon my past,for who I amwas definitely shapedby every shadowed,obstacle-strewnpath, and the keythat ended up being mefits perfectlyinto the lockaround your heart; I … Continue reading The Journey
Trust in the shadows;they are benevolent too, dimming the wrong waysso the beacon may shine through. Listen for the truth;it whispers faithfully through the gale.Turn your back to the blustery lies;the bitterest of winds best fill the sails. You don't need a mapfor an evacuation route;just follow the signsHe's already laid out. He knows all, … Continue reading The Tiller
Sunset strips the day of its colors;the last drips disappear before drying.The empty swing hangs still from the tree,its motion, too, retreats into time.All the world seems silent, pauses;all the years universally fossilize. Only I and the earth subtly shift asthe sun reaches, in gold capsulizes.
Valley to valley,shapeshifting sands,mountains slipping downand through my hands, peak miragesyet they block my view,do not permit ascentfrom the shadowsto vistas of truth, yet I knewbeyond the traps and setbacks,somewhere out therewas a billowing mast and endless skies of blueand a sail or cloud or bothto take me away to where I knewmy hopes as … Continue reading Harbingers
Winter in the South means a mix of seasons but the absence of snow. My soul needs the snow though. Still, I find much beauty in the messages and stories that appear in my lens. There is always a story in my lens. I have been admiring the stubbornness of Autumn. Colors still ablaze that … Continue reading January Fire
Upon the blue canvasof my dreams,I take hold of a brushand my destiny. Having painted atopa darker past, I choose the brightest huesand happiness. Never actually fatedto the dead-end path I was on, self-shackled, I eventually realizedthere were no locks, and the way I was livingreally upset my Father,but I thought the sacrificeswere what He wanted. Twice … Continue reading Blue Canvas
Seasons change slowly in the South and not so obviously; finding the autumnal magic relies on treasure-hunting mixed with dreams. And in both, I see you and our future together evolving like a crystal ball and snow globe, certainty and wishes combining. I stoop low to capture the golden of two seasons and a sunset … Continue reading Merging
