I hate it when the month is mad at me Furious February, Antagonistic April Months when days spiral into darkness even before dusk when the pileup of wreckage serves only to hide the carnage of failure of every time I tried & tried again and…

He Calls Home Those who are called home often see the familiar welcoming the sights @ Renee Avard-Furlow June 13 2015

I’m stuck in a storm Unmovable No place to go Sheets of rain drench me Impossible to see the road I have to press on Thunder roars Rattling my insides A lion, a predator Driving me away Lightening snaps Lighting up the sky Immobilized I…

Midday, June Inside, my big mutt dog, who looks like an Anatolian but whose mother is surely a Great Pyrenees, sprawls across my treadmill all snores, ivory fur, and black face. Outside, the sky is smudged charcoal, the air that peculiar clear green I’ve only…

Ev’rything’s brighter and lighter at midnight, which is my third eye’s time.

creamy white fungi grow on lone, leafless branches of chaos-theory fig trees in mid-April: spring weather arrives late this year

In the still of the night All I hear is the slight drizzle by the window Tiny droplets of rain making sounds as they fall on the ground. On this cool July evening Alone in my room Still can’t bring myself to slumber, My mind…

Her long, brown hair lies flat against her right-turned face; hands, arms, feet, neck, swollen. Her hospital gown, wrinkled and dirty, it had been draped on her for days. She’s propped up against the headboard, the dull hospital-room lighting casts shadows that make it hard…

Trust You made it, and I’m so proud look at the way you handle the now You faced me with all you had and now you see I am not that bad Once you see I am another part of you you’d never question what…

Birthday rose the color of purity, or brand new, unused cloth diapers, (I remember those days so fondly.) The green leaves are the same shade as the grass my sweet husband mows. Standing as tall as 150% the height of the vase (I don’t really…