Morning Glory

Let Saturday spill through my window;
silhouette of daffodils reflecting yellow
through the shutters as I turn over
and his hand is missing from mine,

but the scent on his pillow remains,
leaving me inhaling the presence
of love and last night’s conversation.

We hesitate to let morning come,
but, oh, how the sun lends light to life;
the red glimmer from a cardinal
taps a love song upon the stained glass;
butterflies chasing daisies, swaying
even in the absence of an august breeze.

At six o’clock A.M., silence hums
and a far away melody strums
to my heart, soft, like his blessings;
like the words we whisper
when no one else is listening.



Love Letter #46: Secret Chord

Footsteps echo the dance
of a harpist’s chords;
psalms falling like secret stars
as yesterday’s rusted tears
sculpt this silhouette;
soften this heart
into a puddle of adoration

swirling like pretty poetry
bowed at your feet.

I thought love was an arrow;
a pain that stole last breaths,
but, oh, the realization of you!;

a light that illuminates
from one beautiful name
dropping me to my knees,
one voice that whispers
through my right hand,
spreading an infectious love

in syllables of solace-
this pen, leaking red;

your words in my mouth.



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)