nov 11

Cold, snowy moon
you hide, you hide
but I have found you, and
like him
you will hide once more
but not before
I behold your beauty

Frigid

pink moon 2

On this cold planet
exiled for loving too much
and too hard
presided by a moon
icy and unfeeling

I remember love
the thoughts
of warm hands
and
the heart of a champion

I recall a day
when I was made queen
of one man, one seeker
and it reminds me not to let go
of the tether

To be carried
through frigid space
to be sentenced
for always–

Come to me again
my love
with that fire
so red and angry–
it would send that moon

splashing

Cookbook, page 29

Breakfast was unsatisfying
The sunshine made too much of it all
The rain is coming, not nearly soon enough
The birds complained about the bread crusts
(breakfast, sun, rain, birds, bread)
Recipe for a morning.

The night was interrupted twice
The stars made 2 a.m. worth it
I found myself dozing, pen in hand
The rain (still) has not arrived, and I wait
The birds sang me awake so I could write to you
(night, stars, pen, rain, birdsong)
Recipe for joy.

Monday Random: Journal

Flag reflection

  • Like most days off, I woke up early and he slept late. I coffee’d and breakfast’d and tidied up, watched a few videos on YouTube, and made online backgammon moves
  • The sparrow comes back to the deck and calls out, over and over. Ruffles feathers and grooms himself, calling out again. Flies away and comes back several times
  • He rises and has tea and I am thinking about going back to sleep, but I don’t. He breakfasts on his own while I read
  • Continue reading “Monday Random: Journal”

(am I) Windswept

Have I written too much
about about the birds and trees–
do you doubt my sincerity
when I talk about the weather–
you and your calm, and
me on the edge
of coming to life

april 30 water.jpg

Perhaps all the new words are taken
and my pen– relegated
to thrift store fodder
rearranged and painted up
picturesque
and succinct

On the edge I’ve been sitting on
since then
my own rough edges
you take notice of
are nothing
compared to what is inside–
the part I show to no one

April 30 wall.jpg

You didn’t see me anymore
and I started deleting–
rubbing myself
out of existence
one day sweet–the next sour
a warning would have been nice

Left on a shelf
like a single bookend–
we aren’t lovers
and we aren’t friends.
Is she as danced out as I?

april 30 windswept.jpg

From where I stand – stalwart
I see eternity. The
evening becomes you
and when the evening
becomes you–
you are everywhere
the moon is

April 30 spooky moon.jpg