Darkness overpowers us, swallowing all light. One question remains: did we pay the bill?   (A cinquain is a five line poem with a syllabic count of 2/4/6/8/2.)

Stationary Speaks without writing on it We trade sheets of stationary  like trading cards inside our envelopes. I receive a piece crisp white with a lavender silhouette  of a woman’s body within kelly green vines. At the bottom of this page two hands cup together…

When I was a little girl, I remember Looking up into the night sky and Seeing Santa Claus and his reindeers. I’m pretty sure it was them. It may have been a plane, But one can always hope.  

Mini pound cakes. That, We. All. Purchases, It. Everyday. For, 6.00. Down, In. A. Little, Town. Right. Out, Of Doral.  

Ethereal wisps in the dark sky, I see several moons gliding by, My feet stop running slow down to a jog, a walk – they stop. I lay my head on the grass, listening to the trees conduct a symphony. The world looks dark –…

Tearstained eyes don’t cry any more. Cold numbness sets in, heavy heart weighs down a tired aching soul. Age doesn’t matter; the burden of sadness puts more years on than actual trips around the sun. One day to the next is unpredictable, steady resolve sometimes…

in the vision of yellow there is a call to be honest with these flowers in yellow in the sun on my heart loving the yellow onto the page in ways that would make the blossoms proud, honouring the spirit of the plant – the…

I do not need your mercy  For you do not hold the power  To release or bind me  I hold the means And I have long since Opened the cage  And  Buried the keys  Beneath the cherry tree Where they have grown fruit Sweet as…

The smell of sourdough bread baking wafted through the air. The bakery storefront display had cakes and pastries there. The sign in the window advertised fresh jams and almond butter spread. The forest ranger lost his resolve and into the bakery he did head. Pausing…

Allow pen to scratch along paper Let pigment flow here Without fear    Allow creativity to spill out Let it sweep you along the unexpected routes Without doubt   Be gentle with the tender blooms of story Hold gently the threads of narrative Over which…