I like to dance with butterflies I want to hug butterflies, look at all the color of their wings, so magical Those colors are the most beautiful under the sunshine with the blue sky in the background.  

Beet  jacket  tremor  bayou  elbow  lightbulb cinnamon  bucket  elk  carport   While out exploring the bayou I came across a shimmering lake It was shaped with an elbow bend A path beside it I decided to take. There was a chill in the still air…

Prompt 8 – Music Track   Ready for Daytime   Sitting down on a park bench at dusk He closes his eyes Breathes in Holds breathes out he repeats this three times. His eyes still closed he Fine tunes his ears to Natures sounds, He…

I have lit the fire can you see me through the stars? I see you in my minds eye You’re humanoid form With a side of martian tentacles I have lit the fire Tell me you see me

preservation   hands stained with beet juice reminds me of Granny, learning at her elbow how to pickle all those veggies needed for winter from the days she learned from her granny when her father would bring elk to the house to feed the family,…

Butterflies soar to heights we can dream of spreading their wings in flights of fancy coloring their surroundings in rainbows of blues, greens, yellows, oranges and black. But when it’s burn-your-feet-through-the-sandals hot where the pavement dares you to fry an egg– a heat so intense…

Image Courtesy of Pixabay   Beneath a bayou’s tranquil, silent sway, A jacketed elk at the break of day, Tremors of nature in the water’s flow, Where cinnamon sunsets cast their amber glow. By the carport’s shade where the lightbulbs gleam, An elk and a…

You gave me your jacket, with a tremor in your hand. We both knew today was the last time We will see each other. There was a lightbulb moment, when I knew it was time to move on. Like cinnamon, sweet at first, but bitter…

Mail order caterpillar specks arrive like black pepper on a yellow disc to place in the netted butterfly chamber we watch as time transforms specks of black pepper to spring green caterpillars about a quarter inch long there’s four of them clinging to the netting…

A voice so feeble Mine resisted closeness My father’s shifts and deflects blaming absences on flat mountains and green grass I could smell his words, toxic to my taste buds acidic to my soul fumbling excuses blown around like dandelion petals I could hear his…