poem#5 this old house I used to know every crack in this old house the way the basement floor felt on my bare feet in the winter and how the bathroom stayed so cold the flashbacks of us piled up on the stairs so that…

Look, there, beyond the rolling hills, round knuckles of emerald, past the gentle slopes of grass. Ignore the dark dirt beneath our feet, or the chestnut dust mingling with mud. Do not cry with the rain. Look past the box buildings coated with grime with…

mediocrity describes something almost good at least it happened

horse and dog books have their own special shelf in the children’s library learning about love and loss on the accelerated track

The ski chalet, a wooden two-story in Lafayette Acres, Franconia, New Hampshire, north of the Notch: its owners left it vacant during the summer. Someone needed to look after it, and so it became our family’s (rented) vacation home. Franconia! I miss your sights: Echo…

oh you silent pebble folk     many a time have I met with you. by foot by bike or  by board have I visited you in your flowery realm and beyond you I have gone to the rock folk engraved as part of your surroundings…

Wednesday afternoon walking the few blocks down the hill with a dollar in my pocket past the Presbyterian church and neighboring houses through the vacant lot to get to the shortcut Sliding down the dirt embankment to the parking lot on Rainier Avenue I make…

  You can’t see the successful professional, The experienced traveler, The great mom with happy marriage, The wise, multi-talented woman I’m becoming.   You see faded, Diminished, Almost vanished. Even with a splash of color I’m invisible.   Nothing to offer. Not a prospective adversary…

If I ever get a chance I wish to go back to the home I was born in Live the memories I had there, once more I wish to go back to the home Where I first learnt cycling Where the first time I spoke…

The house in Tennessee Roof concave, near surrender Brush and trees, dirt and bees New roof built and hope extended Real struggle revealed