Together, we

Big powerful horses
loudly stomp their hooves
deep into the earth
beside the creek.
Afraid, I take refuge
in a prairie
filled with saplings and boulders
and watch from afar their mourning ritual.
The horses are grieving – they lift their heads
and begin to neigh,
their voices echoing about me.
Softly I begin to sing
my own song of loss.
I look again at the horses —
their dappled hides,
their flicking ears,
their gentle eyes,
and my fear lifts
and I run toward them
and I sing to them
and I touch them
and we dance together
under an enchanted sky.

Butterfly House, London

So delicate,
these little winged beings.
They sip sweet nectar
from orange slices and
then they launch into the air.
In the tent
outside the museum,
they are protected
from London’s rain and traffic.
Here, people of all ages,
point and laugh,
marveling at the creatures
flitting above and around them
and then,
one lands on you,
perches on you,
flaps its orange and brown wings
and you look so surprised and
so delighted and,
yes,
so beautiful.

Home

The roadrunner makes a clicking sound
and spreads its wings in warning.
It is not my favorite bird,
the way it preys on others.
What I do love
are the hummingbirds buzzing by
like determined little helicopters,
their wings beating fast through the air.
Neighbors walk on the street, dogs at their sides.
I hear the dogs’ tags ringing like tiny bells.
Already the sun is hot against my skin.
It is summer now
and the desert stretches out her arms
to me —

Magic

My magic is missing
and, if I could,
I would buy a potion
from the high-desert herbalist
to regain it.

But the truth is,
I’m lost,
worn,
emptied by grief.

I light the candles
I smell the incense
I sound the bell

I walk the labyrinth
I am bathed in sound
I breathe in peace

Again and again,
I seek the magic I found once,
searching for a sparkling drop of hope
in an ocean of dark despair.

I am —

I am the beginning,
the quiet one,
the reader,
the nature-child

I am the middle,
the striver,
the journalist,
the professional

I am the end,
the mystic,
the poet,
the crone

I am here,
the desert,
the mountains,
the sky

I am there,
the boat,
the castle,
the cobbled lane

I am forever.
the meadow,
the forest,
the sea

I am.

Hello, I’m psyched!

OK, everyone, I hope this is the right place to introduce myself and say how glad I am to be here.

I have been away from poetry for quite some time but it’s my first true love so I can’t wait to get reacquainted with it.

In preparation I have cleaned off my desk and decorated “my” room with plants and twinkly lights. I have notebooks and a journal at standby. Currently two of my dogs are snoozing on the bed. I think they want to be part of my half-marathon.

I’ve told my partner that Saturday is reserved for my half-marathon effort and that I won’t accept any social plans. I’ve joined the Facebook group and I’m sooooo psyched. Can’t wait to meet many of you. Thank you!