Snow White

hello swallows and bearded-tits

good morning garter snake and pelican

oh, great blue heron, you’re here too

good morning

I so enjoy being Snow White in your forest

though your River runs faster

than I can move

and that frightens me a bit,

excites me too

which is how I get into trouble, you know

Coffee and Change

coffee with a splash of soy milk

just enough to change its color

cost $2.37

with 63 cents in change

six dimes and three pennies

that I scatter throughout my day

like the folks who leave kindness rocks

hidden in plain sight

six dimes and three pennies

for the ones looking for messages

love notes

from beyond the thin veil

in dimes and pennies

and other change


I put two dollar bills in the tip jar

a total of five dollars well spent

on coffee

and changing someone’s day


there was a fraying
like the veins of a tomato plant
never offered a skeleton of support
falling over
into the dirt
ready to be wrapped
in a death shroud

seeds never to meet their resurrection
pulled and tossed into the garbage instead
during the shadows of night
no moon
ending swoon

but one
floating on the breath of God
cloaked in those same violet shadows
snuggles up in the muck
is never shucked
but buries herself in for the fall
for the winter
for the spring
a garden quilt to tuck her in

waking, shaking off that quilt
as the garden begins April baking
stretching toward something new
and a gardener
with a frame all ready,
oh, this volunteer tomato seed of resilience

there will be fraying again
but this time
instead of collapse
the natural course of things
for beauty and tomato thrive
when the gardener knows a thing or two about

outside my window

the sainted candles keep guard on my windowsill
beyond that, is Maggie street
each house a different color of the rainbow
no gingerbread houses here
the birds insist upon singing the day into beginning
I can hear them now
even as I feel my body moving toward sleep
and a day that shall be my night
later the bird chatter will give way to children chattering
scented by the whiff of newly cut grass
it is Sunday
and this week is beginning
or ending
depending on who you are

what I miss

this sweatshirt smelled like campfire
even though there’s no tent nearby
I it wore to bed to remember
our camping trip to the lake
a weekend for two
with morning coffee made over a campfire
and evening stars for story telling,
oh, I miss
not my sweatshirt
or its fainted wisp of campfire
but being alone with you, my love
and coffee by the lake


the green velour of dress
was all anyone remembered;
it smelled of moss
on an Irish treasure hunt
and hung on her china white body
like a drape
of softness, alluring;
it was the color of a good chardonnay bottle
after imbibing upon it all
and rung twitterpated in the breeze with the wind chimes

of course, she was a white girl
pale and fragile
the green velour of dress
was all anyone remembered

fake news

We have a pussy.  You can usually find her in the barn.   She hunts mice, bothers raccoons, but leaves the chickens alone.


We have a cock.  He also lives in the barn.   He’s our only one.  He struts his stuff.   We’ve noticed he has a favorite hen, but he’s really not that particular.


Lately on the news, it seems, they’ll talk about our pussy, but not our cock.  Have you noticed?   What’s up with that?


sitting on the porch
the hummingbird came right up to me
in my red sweatshirt
seeming to look me right in the eye
or the breastbone, as the case may be
long narrow beak and whizzing wings
suddenly, I am the hunted and you are the hunter
until I remember
that I am sitting on the porch in my red sweatshirt
and you are a hummingbird;

I breathe again,
you fly away;

that was close


there is a space
where opposites brush up against each other
and make each other possible
like the space between music notes on a staff
played on the trumpet
where one note must end
before the other can begin;
a space where dark becomes light
a space where cold becomes hot
a space where up becomes down
a space where north becomes south
a space where I become you
and a space where you become me
a space that only God can fill
a space of infinite ending