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.



In Waiting…


      Just below the surface

                       hope is rising

          as dreams whirl

  into funnels, translucent-

   engaging as dove’s coo

in the early morning hours.   


                        Like lily pads,

                      in waiting for pink softness

                        upon weathered pages.

Take these heart strings

    like threads of harp,

       beckoning you



~Day 1 of NaMoPo a poem a day for National Poetry Month!


In Silence

Silence renews the mind
and restores the spirit
creating room
for the most significant conversations
we could hope to have
with the most inspiring soul
we could ever hope to know.

Seek him.




~(I am penning a poem a day  from November 24th through December 25th, 2016 to celebrate the birth of Jesus. This is day #16)


Enter In

Take me
to that secret place
where only those dear to your heart

may enter in;

where love and compassion
fill every vessel
and light,
oh light
leads us
through corridors
without parables;

Use me.

Use every drop of my inspiration,
every ounce of passion
to illuminate the walls
the world builds.

Open gates for me

with flowered gardens
of your love.



~(I am penning a poem a day from November 24th through December 25th, 2016 to celebrate the birth of Jesus. This is day #15)


Love Letter #19: To Friendship

Call on me, my darlings,
not only in morning,
or in midday sun,
but at the break of dawn, high noon,
or be my muse at 2:00 AM,
when my soul weeps words.

Come to me,
not only in laughter and song,
but in mourning
so my hands can lay daffodils in yours,
and smile upon your delicate faces.

Pray with me when there seems no hope;
our fingers interlaced
until the warmth fills two souls,
as one.



Tuning My Harp Strings

May I strum
to my heart’s content,
my fingers finding delight
in the muse of your eyes?

Come closer, read my lips
as whispers form stanzas
from the curve of your smile;
the poise in your posture
inspiring new notes.

Let strings soothe waves;
scent of jasmine, titillate senses
as twilight dance of stars
tempt a coy half moon

and when morning comes
let my strum love sleepy lashes,
carry tune to your feet
like sun to flowers,
feeding light.

There’s a symphony in my head,
but the syllables
are scrambled

like my mind
when you look at me,

catch my gaze looking back
as if we just met,
joined lines and pauses,
lines and pauses

and fell
head over heels
into a poem.