Such are the minds of sisters

Sixth sense, powerhouse,

she’ll tell it to you straight

“You are beautiful.”

“You are smart.”

“You’re not told.”

“It’s never too late to start.”

Extra Kleenex, extra gloss,

extra whatever it is that you need

She’s got your back, 

whether blood or you picked her

Thick and thin, through and through,

such are the minds of sisters,

St. Kilda

You take me by the hand 

and lead me to the moon

There we ride low to high and loop de loop

Through the crowds, you’re by my side

I never have to worry

We take our time, 

there is no rush

We let the others hurry.


Back down on earth, we hear the notes

from The Palais and the Espy

We feel the beats move through us,

as your arms, they circle ‘round me

They sing of love, they sing of fear,

they sing everything we’re feeling

Your eyes meet mine, I know what you mean,

it’s no chance that we had that first meeting.


Down at Claypots we switch to jazz

your smile has me entranced

We feed each other succulent mouthfuls

you laugh at my sensuous sounds

As I enjoy the flavors, you wonder aloud

if you could get me to repeat them elsewhere?


So on to Beach Road and the dream house you built

with the hidden library built just for me

The answer is yes, it has always been yes

Since the day that we happened to meet.

Beware the Moonshadow

The old tales speak of the moonshadow,

following after the farmers in full moon’s light

Don’t be fooled by the reaper disguised,

as the shadow cast by the full moon’s light


There’s work to do but it can wait

Leave the plough, bring the ox to the stable

Go inside, break the bread

and take your seat at the table


Light a fire and pull up a chair,

warm your feet and rest your head.

Keep the shadow outside, you’re safe where you are,

better inside than dead.

Light up the dark

We built the treehouse up in the old hickory tree

we would sleep up there

to escape the heat from the little cottage 

our grandfather built back when he was young and strong

and not hunched over with age.

At night, we would watch the dancing lights of the fireflies

beckoning to their future mates.

It wasn’t lethargy that kept us lying there for hours,

but the magic of sleeping just below the treeline

with the sounds from below,

a pleasant white noise.

My brother wanted to trap some fireflies in a bottle to 

use as a nightlight, he said.

He tried to mask his cruelty by playing it off as some brilliant idea,

but I knew better.

Some people are just jealous of those that light up the dark.

Season of the Tomato

Vines grow

yellow blossoms open

enticing bees to

cover themselves in gold

heavy with fruit

glowing red

warm in my hand

I breathe in the scent

as my teeth sink in

juice drips down my chin

as I taste the flavor

of summer.


Sun filters through the curtains,

a soft glow casts its light

A promising appearance

as the aroma of coffee 

from the cup lovingly left 

on the bedside table 

next to a book

full of dreams

Ceci n’est pas une parapluie

Magritte whispers, “Those are not umbrellas.”

He is right, of course.

Those are souls that have been liberated

from the confines of hallways and corners.


No longer tethered to a human hand,

up high they can see

much farther than they did before.


Their bright colors and patterns continue to

shelter those below and brighten the mood

of passers-by.


When the breeze blows, 

you can almost hear them, 

planning their final escape. 


The wires break, 

the souls take flight,

disappearing into celestial heights.

A letter to my past

You said that you wished we were real

but we were, don’t you see?

If we were not real, why does it hurt so?

I don’t need to pinch myself to feel the pain

to know that we were real.

Two years and I still catch my breath

when I see your face or hear your voice in my mind.

We won’t grow old together

or cruise down the Ocean Road.

You won’t carve our initials in the bench by

the hydrangea but oh

we were real.

Some people are meant to be together but 

it obviously wasn’t us.

You are gone, but the hurt it stays

as real as you and me.


There’s an invisible enemy

hanging in the air

some say it’s from Wuhan

in China, over there.

It doesn’t really matter now.

They say it’s here to stay.


Wear a mask. Wear a mask. Wear a mask.


Some folks have conjured up stories, 

they say it’s from a lab

or that it doesn’t exist at all-

it’s phony, it’s a scam.

“We have our rights”

“You can’t make me”

“The cure is worse than the disease”

Grandparents falter and succumb.


Wear a mask. Wear a mask. Wear a mask.


It wasn’t your problem but now it is,

first in Blue states, now in Red.

You got your freedom to go to bars,

you partied with family, now they’re dead.

I’m still at home, I miss my friends, and doing what I used to do.

Please do your part, like I’ve done mine.


Wear a mask. Wear a mask. Wear a mask.

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