Friday, August 30, 2013

Fog ~

Fog is like a big gray wall, except that it is all soft and misty. It 
seems to ensnare you in a realm all your own and set you entirely 
apart from the outside world. You may walk on and on and never 
appear to be going anywhere. Time seems to stand still.
   Some people think of fog as dreary and forbidding. I think it is
beautiful and mysterious. When you approach a light very closely 
you can see the fog softly floating about like beautiful billowy 
clouds . It seems as though it is trying to enclose the light and hide it 
completely from view.
   I love the musty damp smell that accompanies a fog. It is utterly thrilling
to wander aimlessly when mists change the world, making everything
even yourself, feel unreal.

Tuesday, August 27, 2013

Denver Summer Night ~

This night each starry stab of light 
across the river trails a wriggling 
snake of silver 
in the water ...

A distant sadly comic saxophone 
cries faintly in the black and sultry summer 
Who ... stole my heart away?
Who ... an old piano mingles soft 
into the blessed Colorado breeze
crickets chirp and rasp a song as your 
slow breathing in my ear blends with 
the heat, the scent of dewy clover and 
the not quite heard strum buzz of stars.

It is a night for nakedness 
of soul.

(wildflowers are from my garden) 

Sunday, August 25, 2013

Do You Remember?

Do you remember
how they looked and spoke and moved about 
so many years ago?
How their voices 
long since stilled by time 
once spoke your name?
Do you sometimes 
think of them 
trying to make the memory of their faces
come sharp and clear and beautiful 
only to discover 
that like old and yellowed photographs 
quaintly posed 
tranquil and faded 
there is sadness even in their smiling?
Sometimes do you wonder 
if they could see you now 
that it would be 
so beautiful for them 
an occasion for 
Now that all their ancient love 
has long since burned to hallowed ash
do you remember 
how much of all that love
which warmed their hearts 
and stirred their hopes 
was preciously ...
just you? 

(photo is from Google ) 

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

The Reliability of Books ~ A Love Poem

When I can no longer have you 
I spread your books beside me in bed
sleeping with pages your fingers have turned
sleeping with words well-loved by you.
It is a small consolation for your absence 
for the nearness of your body next to mine 
I pull a book to me in the dark 
not knowing its title 
spread it like palms across my body
feel it move with my breath 
make it pulse like my heartbeat.
Books have filled these empty spaces before 
I know the pleasure of their reliability
awaiting your return.

Sunday, August 18, 2013


If time would stop 
sundials stand at noon
winds not blow
leaves not fall below
on your command 
I would listen 
to the words you hurl 
and they would hurt.
But time does not wear patience 
in her hair 
weather vanes blow north and south 
acorns grow 
fall upon the ground.
And I will braid your multicolored words 
into a rug 
and throw it down 
to hide the dirt.

Thursday, August 15, 2013

A Love Poem

One afternoon 
when trees stood clear 
against the sky 
at dusk 
the light, a pale soft gray 
I sat down 
to write you everything 
I've wanted to say 
but now I have the chance 
I find my words of passion, love and romance 
lose all their heat 
when dressed in black and white 
and fall in silence 
on the printed page ...
I need the poets 
of another age 
to write their sonnets 
full of furbelow and fuss
I can only show 
you how I feel.

(Picture of us was taken on Mother's Day
my husband always takes me out to a lovely brunch)

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

The Eyes of Youth

Sweet sky and sun that seem
to reach through covering
of stern belief holding youth 
to black or white or sometimes 
gray of doubt. Unlock his mind 
to find its own young simple way.
His genes are good, his aims
are high, he needs to be released 
to try, and if he falls
it only adds to his resolve
to try again. Some say 
it is our failures that teach us 
to be strong. I only know 
there is a special haunting look
of dreams in his young eyes
a straightened back of courage
and grip of reason in his hands.
He will do well 
if he can make more good choices 
on his own.

Thursday, August 08, 2013


To the sea, to the sea
who is a laughing maid
tossing the froth of her 
wanton lips 
 upon the thirsty sands.

To the sea, to the sea
who is a flaunting maid 
sweeping voluminous skirts of foam
across the lustrous rocks 

I am of the sea
caught in its beating peaceful monotony 
I am of the sea
and its endless breadth of shores 
and its path of quiet tide 
where cooled flesh slumbers 
with shadowed dreams 
and distant horizons.

(photo was taken in Newport Beach, CA.
a heavenly place to be)

Monday, August 05, 2013

Silence is for Listening

There are songs to be heard in silence! 
Melodies interweaving the pensive quietude 
psalms of fruitfulness and harvest to come
proclaiming life beneath the canopy of winter 
the river's mystic lament for freedom 
where bold canyons contain  its breadth ...

Once I felt the eloquence of a joyful hymn
seeing a doe in silent vigil over her fawn ...

I have heard anthems ascending mountain heights 
and Brahms Lullaby in a somnolent valley.
The songs in silent interludes! To hear them
is to banish loneliness from our solitudes.