He was the most gentle of souls —
playing his violin for the kittens at the shelter
so they would not be lonely.

On that night, he was just walking home,
carrying an iced tea for his brother
and, yes, he was singing and dancing
in his own special way.

For this, the police were called.
For this, the police put him in a chokehold.
For this, the paramedics injected him with a sedative.
For this, Elijah was killed.

I was just going home
I’m just different
I’m an introvert
That’s all

Today we are all Elijah.
We are all different.
We are all gentle souls.
In this time, right now,
that is an enormous thing.


What I love most about Narnia
is how easy it is to get there —
the simple process of stepping
through the wardrobe and landing
in a place of magic.

When I visit Narnia,
I will meet the faun and magicians
and the amazing lion named Aslan.
When I visit Narnia, I will crunch across the snow,
as it is always winter there,
and drink Turkish delights.

When I visit Narnia,
I will have tea with Mr. and Mrs. Beaver
and I will steer clear of the wolves and the witches
and perhaps I will stay forever
in this magical world not just a while
but forever.


Oh, let’s just leap and hop in the moonshadow.
Let’s shout to the heavens about joy and hope
while we spin and weave and bobble
under the starry skies.

See, here is my hand, take it –
See, here is my song, sing it –
See, here is my dance, dance it –

Now I will see your hand and take it —
Now I will know your song and sing it —
Now I will watch your dance and dance it —

Together we will embrace the dark night
as we drain our cups of falling stars
and, finally refreshed, we skip and gallop through
the forgotten paths of the Milky Way.

The enchanted cottage (using 10 assigned words)

Remember the firefly
that began to zip and zoom
just below the treeline that day?

You had the strange idea to follow it.
And then I could feel the heat of your body
as our insect guide led us through the woods.

Soon we were at an enchanted cottage with a garden.
A sparkling chandelier hung from a tree branch and below
was a table set with bowls of porridge and a bottle of Chardonnay.

We toasted each other with our wine glasses and began to feast until
at last neither of us could mask the feeling of lethargy
and we curled up together in that magical world,
falling finally and blissfully into a sweet and gentle sleep.



This is me (based on my most-used emojis)

This is me, filled to the brim with pink hearts
and covered in sweet paw prints.
Oh look, there is a ball of yarn!
Did someone leave me that as a present?

I do want to vomit when I view the one I call The Peach
and my heart is broken by all that I’ve witnessed.

Still sometimes I can wink or fall into bouts of hysterical laughter
until I scare myself so much that I zip my mouth shut.

I see an ant crawling on a stack of books while
a rainbow arches over a block of cheese.
I cut the lemon off the tree with my scissors, pick up dog poop from the yard and then,
at last, I adjust my halo and settle down for my daily massage.

Season of the birds

The world has quieted and now
the birds are free to sing,
no longer competing with the noise
of cars and jets.

In this calm, mama hummingbird builds her nest
on a wind chime and she
raises her baby
while they rock gently together in the breeze.

We get regular deliveries:
sugar from Instacart to make hummingbird nectar
bird seed in bulk from chewy.com
new feeders from Amazon.

The Fed Ex truck arrives and the gate is slammed.
The dogs run madly to inspect the box
and sniff disappointedly at yet another
present for the birds.

Paleokastritsa, Corfu (ideal day)

Light skips and sparkles
across deep blue water
and schools of fish
swirl beneath our boat.

We are a blur of laughter and hugs.
We perch on the boat’s edge
and dangle our hands
into the blue bellow.

Then we enter the cave:
dark, cool, silent.
The guide points out the goddess
and we greet her together.

The little boat (photo prompt)

This boat moves like magic,
a simple push with the oar
and I am floating through the stars.

Beloved, we are here just now
and time is fleeting.
Let us row together through
the moonlight.

The lullaby suggests we will return
but the fable casts a murkier truth.
The light scatters across the lake,
inviting us into the darkness.

Dearest Patti

These are the black shells that washed up from the ocean
as you were leaving.
See? I have them here on this little shelf turned altar.
Here is your photo with Becky and the dogs.
Here is the angel you drew
when you learned of the cancer.

This is the dryer ball in the shape of a hedgehog.
Remember when I sent that to you?
You said the bouncing sound in the dryer made you laugh
and that made me happy.
Somehow Michael knew to send it back to me afterward.
Anyone would wonder why a dryer ball belongs on an altar.

It is sacred.

And here are your words sweeping across the sky –
the way you signed your letters
with a flourish:
Peace. Love. Patti.
I repeat these words and they transform:

Here. Now. Forever.


One day folds into the next
and I am disoriented
by so much time, so little time
At night, my dreams are haunted
by face masks, germs
and nasal swabs.

What time is it now?

Sometimes I think
how much I will age
before my next pub drink with friends
and that I might not see my dad again
and then I distract myself
filling hummingbird feeders
scrubbing the sink
watching protests on the news.

What time is it now?

We can use this pause
if we seize the moment:
dismantle racist structures
pay attention to the planet
focus on peace
but we cannot wait another minute

What time is it now?

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