I used to wait for rain
stand, palms up, pleading
for earth to fall away

so I could bloom;

sat under that weeping willow
many a Sunday, sleeping
under the swish of limbs,
tremble of railroads
echoing at my back-
ears attuned
only to cardinal’s song
to fade the noise
of Monday coming,

It took years of suffering
to open my wings,
to close the umbrella
to feel the son;

to feel the sun.




Her intricate lace
wraps a circle ‘round the sun;
shades of gold and brown pigment
play colors of night
like a fine instrument,

tones beckoning moonlight
and sleepy stars
in a symphony of light
reflecting feathered promises,
unfolding in an abrupt,
but loving change of scenery.

~~Day 23 of NaPoMo (a poem a day in April for National Poetry Month)



She was curious to a fault-
wide -eyed wonderer,
with a tug on the corner
of his white garment,

asking why, why, why.

He replied with a pensive smile
pointing, not to her left,
nor her right,

but straight ahead
to the path less traveled,
where she stumbled,
unbridled, relentless

until they met again
in a perfect chorus

on the other side of that mountain.

Day 17 of NaPoMo (a poem a day in April for National Poetry Month)


Love Letter #34: (the arts)

Paint me a sunset
in the midst of blue;
dancing green meadows
tickling my feet.

Beside lily pads,
let me lie, gazing

into pink petaled reflection,

and should darkness follow,
sing me a lullaby
before I fade away,
wrap me in poetry
before you close the chapter

of us.

Listen for a soft chime
when a constellations falls
and find me in feathered places.

Day 15 of NaPoMo (a poem a day in April for national poetry month)


Love Letter #32: Like David

It was a sunday
when he first peeked inside,
gently tap, tap, tapping
upon the muddled senses
of a hopeless romantic
with glass heart mentality.

It didn’t take him long
to unfurl these tethered wings-
to lift up insecurities,
folding feathered promises
into a flowered path

unpaved, but favored
like a psalmist;
a harpist with a song

chasing the ultimate love story.

~Day 4 of NaPoMo (a poem a day in April for National Poetry Month)



I loved you like autumn, as
breezes kissed the pages of
our existence with magenta
petals, falling like syllables
upon white sheets, feelings
spilled in Vignettes; letters
all wrapped in silk, roaming,
like your fingers do, so gently
through the length of my hair.

Day 3 of NaPoMo…a poem a day in April for National Poetry Month.



Our colors spill, rainbow-like
from sleepy-eyed midnight stars;
gold-edged moon

peeks through the cracks.

We know that we are broken, blurred,
beaten between the lines of self-doubt.

This soil is tainted,
torn like mowed grass,
finely splintered

like the shards of shattered dreams.

Carry my worries on your shoulders,
piggyback, like that nice uncle I never had
until constellations fall back into view
and all the pieces fit together by morning.