I was sitting outside In my old wooden chair beneath my Grandfather’s Oak. My own space of solitude. I held my hardback on my lap. It dangled precariously a creased page begging for my return. I sipped on Chardonnay The day fragrant and misty The…

Knitting needles lock Oak satchel sunflower hair Space and time called kin

There is space in my born family of origin Entitlement overshadows the importance of generational heirlooms knitted in one long thread are stories so old if shared we could use them as a knitting tool to count back to generations forgotten To nail something down…

Counting breaths like waves Crashing lips over my dunes A fluttered memory, Full moons like our hips breaking seaside to our ecstasy.

V. Let me recount my multi-colored, full-throated, feathered brood: Chickadee, House Sparrow, Junco, Jay Nuthatch, Robin Purple Finch, Gold Finch, Ruby Throated Hummingbird, Crow Red Winged Black Bird, Tree Swallow Downey Woodpecker, Snowy Woodpecker, Mourning Dove, Cedar Waxwing, Cardinal And not least of these –…

An Evening of Wine and Cheese (Poetry Marathon 2022 Hour 5) An evening with you Where we can share My favorite white wine With a faint scent of oak If the proper wine glass Is given room to breathe And your favorite yellow cheddar cheese…

grandma in her rocking chair knitting sunflowers the color of cheddar cheese knitting sunflowers because that’s what she knew best to work on her knitting loom from where i lay on the rug the pattern seemed dark, distant space but when i squinted an oak…

torn pages from a Christie mystery scattered on a hardback chair, cracked wine glass dripping blood red drops of wine on the oak floor, she left in haste running away from the scene of crime. the space where her happiness wilted and almost died. now…

tink tink tink Is that in key? Is it a key? Do I care? tink tink tink I think I like it. Maybe. I should try it again. tink tink tink That sounds horrible. It sounds like rust. I love it. tink

The house on the hill The walk from town to the house A memory that would not fade away The beauty of the house died suddenly The window never opened amicably When she was home the window was lit Her writing on the wall I…