My alarm clock  buzzing  and telling me to wake up from a short nap and so my brain asked me, to check the next prompt for 23 hours poetry marathon. And this bright and glaring sun rays penetrate through the bedroom window’s curtain and greeting…

Very little (if any) poetic merit in this, my final poem for the 2017 Poetry Marathon. But an awful lot of love. When I look at the old farm around me Three things I never fail to see: I accept how it is, I remember…

Pre-dawn darkness lights my mind with the view through my kitchen window. The seasonal creek white-capped for weeks last winter, after the rains charged our parched patch of earth. Cooper’s hawk shrieks betwixt oak branches. schooling her fledglings of the hunt An owl, white, “who” speaks…

Returning to thoughts of moist earth, the thunderstorm has come and went, Its smell hinted before the first poem I wrote And now here, composing the last poem for this day, I write of the puddles it left outside my window. I write for the…

Though the shades are closed, vertical blinds obscuring the view, I well know what lies behind them. Out there, in my yard, lives A grand Valencia orange tree 35 years old or more That branches from the house to wall in a triangular Patch of…

This well-traveled road, I’ve traversed many a day. It leads me to the nuns to whom I bare my soul.     Highway nine-forty-five, is a simple, country road. Who knows the power, of this precious path?     I do. God does. And now…

I see little until my eyes adjust, a sprinkle of tiny stars not hidden behind the heavy winter clouds, the moon, fat and round today shinning a gloomy green from behind  clouds, limbs bouncing in the wind, leaves swaying, the glint of light of a tin…

Kneading the dough? What I need is to rise An early start But the street cries The sun is yawning Ready to hypnotize Not fully there I sympathize ‘C’mon, let’s go!’ A time to bake Why we couldn’t do this When I’m more awake Already…

I look out and see the possibilities of my life.  A vast terrain that I’ve yet to explore.  It is growing and beautiful, ripe to be tilled.  There overhead flies an eagle showing me the heights that I can reach.  I hear the song. I…