We Who Love

We who love water calm and still
Shatter like glass with unexpected waves.
We who love rapids raging chaotic
Drown in the stillness of the ordinary.

We who seek fullness and the shine of the sun
Diminish and wither in twilight.
We who love starry night and velvet darkness
Burn with the sear of our souls.

Letter to A Friend

Your huge incredible life adventure brought you to us.
We have been so blessed by your presence here. You have brought insight, comfort, and laughter.
You have taught us to see the joy in the smallest moments, because joy does exist there.
You have encouraged us to see the lessons in our struggles differently, as learning experiences and opportunities rather than obstacles and failures.

The day-to-day grind haunts all of us but chafes your tender skin even more.
Your sadness is heartbreaking for those of us who love you.
You are an amazing light for so many of us
We can’t imagine that you ever sit in darkness.

There was a time when I was visiting a little festival on the beach.
As the sun dropped in the sky, the band on stage grew quieter.
Then they stopped playing and turned to watch the sky.
As the sun melted into the ocean, the entire beach erupted in applause.
As if sunsets didn’t happen every day.

I wish you renewed hop and restored joy.
That you tread water less and swim more.
That your heart heals and you are filled with the love of your tribe.
That you are overwhelmed by the most beautiful ordinary you’ve ever experienced.

Good Night, My Darling Little Love

Good night, my darling little love,
It’s time to go to sleep.
The stars are watching from above
As the darkness settles deep.

It’s time to go to sleep
Tucked into your cloud-soft bed.
As the darkness settles deep,
Let sweet dreams fill your little head.

Tucked into your cloud-soft bed
Purr your little kitten snores.
Let sweet dreams fill your little head
As the night your joy restores.

Purr your little kitten snores
The stars are watching from above
As the night your joy restores.
Good night, my darling little love.

Children in the Rain

We dance in the rain, spinning in circles,
Our little canvas shoes splashing in the puddles that form along the patio.
We balance on the edging stones, laughing as raindrops burst on our upturned faces.
Our play dresses change color as they begin to stick to us and our ponytails droop.
There is laughter from the porch, offering melody to our overture.
We hold hands and skip in a circle until our wet hands pull apart
And we crash to the ground, exclaiming how fun that was.

Summer Call

Under the mask of dusk, with fireflies lighting our space,
We pass the bottle and tell tall tales.
The heat of the booze leaves us feeling strange,
Happy, lethargic, and energetic all at one time.
Sparrows zip and zoom along the treeline,
Calling for the others to play along:

Summer! Summer! Summer!

We have too much time on our hands,
Too much energy in our youth.
We are looking for love, we are looking for a fight.
We are fortified by the drink and tales of bravado,
Which we all know are untrue but we want to be those people.
So we lazily seek excitement; we are sloppy in our longing.
We stumble and slur and sputter,
We howl at the moon and call to the stars:

Summer! Summer! Summer!

We steal candy bars from the corner store to prove how dangerous we are.
We catch fireflies in our cupped hands and then let them zoom away back into the night.
We walk through the neighborhood, passing the cottages and Cape Cods,
Talking of the big adventures that await us in the fall,
When we all have to go our separate ways again.
But for now we call:

Summer! Summer! Summer!

Recipe for Starting Over

1 Courageous Heart (Do not confuse this with bravery. Bravery is for the fearless. Courage is pulled from the depths of the afraid).

2 Boarding Passes (One for the first part of the journey; one for exiting the layover).

3 Keys (One for the gate, one for the mail box, one for the house).

4 Deep Breaths, separated and keeping one in reserve

5 Whisper Prayers, in small bits

In the former house, prepare the Courageous Heart. Whisper a bit of Prayer (1)  and add a Deep Breath (1). Close the door behind you. Enter the friend’s vehicle and ride to the airport. As you exit the car, take another Deep Breath (2) and hug your friend good bye. Retrieve your Boarding Passes and move them to an accessible pocket. Travel through security (!!) and head to the gate. When your group is called, give your first Boarding Pass (1) to the gate attendant. Add a Whisper Prayer as you depart (2). Let calm rise for 3 hours to your layover. At the layover city, prepare your Courageous Heart for the second part of the experience. Add another Whisper Prayer (3), comb your hair, and have a snack. Returning to the gate, retrieve the second Boarding Pass and hand to the gate attendant. In your seat, relax for 2 hours, letting joy rise. As you disembark, joy should now be risen high in the Courageous Heart (if not, add another Deep Breath (3) and Whisper Prayer (4)).  Accept your rideshare, noting the landmarks and neighborhoods as they pass. As you enter the driveway, pull the Keys from your bag. After tipping the driver, use the first Key (1) to open the gate. Enter the courtyard. There may be tears at this point; that is not unexpected and will only add to the flavor of the experience. Make your way to the front door and use the Key (2) to open it. Note: the Courageous Heart may flutter for a moment but this will pass quickly. Enter the house quietly, taking in the light and newness and possibilities that greet you. Set aside the third Key (3) for retrieving the mail later, when the excitement has settled into joyous contentment. Take a Deep Breath (4) and say a Whisper Prayer (5). Take your shoes off and walk barefoot through the space. Let your Courageous Heart embrace its new HOME.


In the Villa Where We Danced (villanelle)

Seven hundred meters from the sea,
Under the red gold sun,
In the villa where we danced,

He sits quietly, sipping tea
With his white shirt undone.
Seven hundred meters from the sea

He is relaxed and does not notice me,
My life mate, my special one.
In the villa where we danced

After our honeymoon. His goatee
Is white, as age has won.
Seven hundred meters from the sea

I think of what we used to be
And all that we have overcome
In the villa where we danced.

We were young once but now we
Are old and soft as life is done.
Seven hundred meters from the sea
In the villa where we danced.

After Life

After the betrayal
After the heartbreak
After the ultimatum
After the screams and the tears and the collapse.
After the blame
After the lawyers
After the settlement
After the removing and the replacing.
After the silence
After the worry
After the guilt
After the insecurity and aloneness and failure.
After the sunrise
After the risk
After the false bravado
After the stepping out and diving in and pushing through.
After the strengthening
After the confidence
After the empowerment
After the reflection and the acceptance and the re-creation.
After life…comes After Life.


In the table, there is a junk drawer,
An island of misfit minutiae.
Are the batteries new or depleted?
Scissors and tape tossed here after a gift wrapping session.
A cork trivet bearing a beer logo from a bar on a faraway night.
Old ink pens, loose buttons, and half a blue taper candle, used to color a Chianti bottle.

Now there is the junk folder, a hoarder of information,
Collecting messages wanted and unsolicited.
So many best of the summer sales for seersucker and linen.
I can erase my crepey skin and lose those last tough ten pounds.
I can upgrade my gutters or sign up to find the love of my life–if any of that is needed.
But wait! Here is the message I have been searching for, the one I complained that I never received.

Now I must declutter the junk of my life, real and virtual.
No, I will not confirm my password and account number
To save the children, or the whales, or the Nigerian prince.
I did not really win that lottery, the IRS is not seeking payment, and my car warranty is just fine, thank you very much.
I will not keep the cork from the bottle I shared with someone who turned out to be no one.
I do not need the instructions to an appliance I no longer own or the ticket stub from a movie I don’t remember.

But I will keep that cork trivet, whose memory still makes me smile.
And maybe the two large rubber bands and pile of paper clips to McGyver my rescue somehow, just in case.