As in the Past Come dance with me, a ‘swallowtail jig’, like early settlers to this land. We worked all day, tilling summer’s yard, tonight – let me hold your hand. Come dance with me, verdant skirt swishing, while tapping out this buoyant tune. We’ve…

DEAR MARY “I fail to see what the Moderns are supposed to have discovered about color.” Mary Cassatt (letter to Berthe Morisot & her daughter Julie Manet, autumn 1879) I’ve never met a color I didn’t love, but what you? All this bother about discovering…

Author’s Note: I don’t have a location special to me, that I haven’t visited in many years so I can’t really do the prompt. However, I can write about a place that is special to me, that I have visited recently. So here it goes….

In my mind I’m stuck Back in a time of monsters With mad gaping maws Creatures, creep-lovers Leap down fiery caverns For lost love or warmth Searching for the lyrical Noise of the ancients Diane Morinich

Butterfly personified by Celtic tune Fiddler strums the flitting floral dance called “The Swallowtail Jig”  

The stain on your clothes Don’t reflect your character Similarly one shouldn’t Judge a book by it’s cover.   Happiness is not the end result But a journey of life Which moves toward any direction But the approach remains the same, being happy.   Sometimes…

DEATH TO SELF I see, hear and feel the truth, but it does not set me free. Rather, it pricks my heart with a finely cut dagger. I miss the you’s through out my life, all those I’ve had to say goodbye to. Why? Why…

It doesn’t start like this Not with the soft centre Not with the creamy texture of it It’s never that simple You can’t skip the shell The crunchiness The pleasant hardness That keeps its shape Please don’t ignore The outer layers Of baked goods

9:00… 9:01… 9:02… It’s been 32 minutes. 32 minutes past the time I should have stopped. Should have laid down my book and glasses, Stood and gone to the medicine cabinet. 32 minutes past when I take my pills. Nothing so far has happened, or…

If love was a colour What hue would it be How would we colorise What the eye cannot see Would it be red, as commerce has us believe I think not, for red offers no reprieve Would be it green, an uncomplicated hue No, not…