#4. Dear Mama

How could I know
the last time we hugged
would be forever?
How can it be
I will no longer see
your hands, your eyes, your smile?
I can still hear your whistle
(in the end, so soft like a whisper, but there, nonetheless)
I treasure your cards,
your writing an art, like calligraphy.
And the words they contain,
full of love to sustain and inspire me.
You were the grandmother of my children’s dreams…
embracing and creating where their fathers could not be.
Oh mama, it seems only yesterday
we drank tea on your balcony
there, in the evening desert warmth.
Thank you for accepting me, as myself.
Thank you for growing and raising your compassion
And modeling
the grace
of being.
I remain,
Forever Yours.

#3. Witnessing the Love

The problem I see is it’s all about me
The lens of my vision is cloudy
Where reality lies in the ads that we buy
Fill the bandwidth between my two ears
While the earth tumbles on
We debate like a pawn in the field of destruction.

As above, so below
Witnessing the love

How to move beyond Fear, with its limits so clear
To a place where my heart will expand
Melting trauma and loss
Like the fan on defrost
Compassion for self, then for others
Educating my soul
Using faith as a goal
To beyond where the sky has no end

As above, so below
Witnessing the love

Too much ego will limit
My growth as I spin it
Concentric and dialed to need
Move beyond self defenses
To the realm of acceptance
Is a path I envision and dream

As above, so below
Witnessing the love

#2. Poem a la Hurry

“Poem a la Hurry”
1. 4 Cups creativity, sifted
2. 2 medium cups of coffee
3. 3 parts Inner Critic, diced
4. 1 Wall Clock, promptly ticking
5. Several Birds, chirping


Pour Creativity into a large mixing bowl.
Gently stir in the Diced Inner Critic.
When well mixed, slowly blend in the coffee until consistency
is even.
The inner critic may form lumps, be sure to keep stirring, so
the Creativity can dissolve them.
Add in the Ticking Clock, constantly.
Add in the Bird Chirps. They have always been there, remember to notice when they slow down.
Mix all until blended, let sit for 5 minutes, then serve.

#1. Winona LaDuke

I can hear her voice now
the cadence, the shape, the brilliance and power
Of her words.
I remember the first time I saw her speak
and thinking, she is my forever hero.
(I will later introduce myself
In awkward, gushing fan struck style
which she will graciously and with abundant humor and humility
accept in stride)

How she walks upon this land
tilling soil
growing rice and hemp and faith
Defending her home
Speaking out, showing up
through hours and years
Of procedural hearings
Against those who would profit by devouring water and land
with their sickness of consumption,
while all the time raising her children
in power and love.
I am proud to say I have sat at the table with this amazing
and most courageous woman.
Honor the Earth,

Half Marathon Prep

Another year, another half trot around the corral! I look forward to calling my inner muse to come out to play, stretching her sweet lace poetry wings out far and wide. May a word strand stumble forth, worthy of, if nothing else, the sheer eloquence of creativity.

12. Head Map

As I create reality

in definition and construct

Fear based thinking leaks

into   collusion

like a version of a

recurring nightmare.

Strength and love

and courage

A fortress to behold… Where I am my greatest enemy

a critic and a scold.

The intricacies woven, between my very eyes

Beguiles and enchants me with their subtle, weary lies.

Castles in the sand befall high tide and kicking feet

Memories enshrined in text, crumble to the sea.

Begone, Self Doubt!

You serve me not. I am and what is more

I am enough, as I am…  as I am.

Love, it  will endure.

11. The Jig

Dance a jig upon the ridge

with foaming surf below

to whisk and blend with sky and wind

and spirit, to and fro.


Quickly as the bow reveals

the tones and tunes array

the Celtic lines, do re-define

the balance, and the fray.


Fiddle quick and fiddle fine

Bestir an ancient fire

Music as a tinderbox

creation to inspire.

10. Eyes Open

Everywhere I look

another shade

to see…

spectrum, hue, intensity

in baffling degree.

Iridescent, incandescent…

rapture for a tone.

Back lit in an opal

subtle in a bone.

Woven threads and feather blends

speckles, polkas, dye!

Neon glow intensity

rainbows in the sky.

Iris blooms and lily wings

visions in

my eye.

And if sight was gone tomorrow

color still I’d see

inside my mind

behind my eyes

in shades

of brilliancy.


9. Spider

Oh spider

so patient in your corner, hiding

amongst invisible strands

to trap unaware

all who would fly between.


With gentle geometry

you weave intricate, delicate


that when bejeweled with morning dew,

as diamonds would


in simplicity.


Oh Spider,

your brilliant self-sufficiency



8. Drift Away

“At the point where language falls away…”  first line from “Spelling”, by Margaret Atwood.


Songs and poems and words we dream at

beneath the sleep of night, and the

beginning of another thought, a point

a dance, a light… where

every line becomes a  language

to be seen… whereupon it falls

and drifts away.