Tag Archives: grateful

Wrapping paper shreds


Wrapping paper shreds

Exploded packaging and

Happy hugs, chatter

Each left with a little sack of

Their own to take home.

A hundred tiny lights shine

Gentle illumination

Everyone’s smiling

In pools of mixing color.

Santa is watching.

Hugs all around us.

Life has slowed down for today.

Have some more egg nog.

I almost forgot

To get out the apple pie!

Let me help you with that.

Thank you.













When the world is first frostbitten


When the world is first frostbitten

tender trees touched in thin ice

When summer shows its back

abandoning you for a faraway land

When winter’s wan face smirks at your peephole

hard fingernails tapping your door

knowing it will soon be strong

enough to crack your lock and let itself in

When everything disintegrates into blue and white and crispy brown

and the wind, mad surgeon, lacerates your summer softened skin


then the clouds part

affording you



of heavenly light

a welcoming patch in which to stand


When you know you are about to lose it for good

that is when the warmest sun shines














One Month Later

It’s only been a month since I started blogging?? I started on 6/26.

It’s been a lifetime. I’ve already learned so much, written so much, read so much. I dare say my poetry has gone up a level or two since I began.

Not long ago, I was thinking to myself, “I need more writer friends.” I have a lot of visual artist friends, and I am head over heels in love with every one of them. But I had very few people with whom I could talk about writing as a craft.

I didn’t realize it, but I was stagnating as a writer.

I’m not sure what happened. I was just following the flow of Tao, “what the hell.” I barely even knew what a blog was. I figured I’d be invisible. Actually I was sort of banking on it, not really wanting to be emotionally exposed. I didn’t know there was a wordpress community. I was vaguely aware of the term “blogosphere” and thought that sounded like a dreadful place full of people bitching about the mundanity of their lives or ranting their crazy.

Well, I guess it is that. But it’s also much more than that. And it’s really unexpectedly lovely.

I never thought of myself as a poet. I was just venting on paper. If someone told me six months ago that I was going to do this, my mind would have boggled. “Poetry” and “blog,” were two of the most boring words put together. 

No. It’s electricity. The level of talent out there, the things people post leave me breathless. And where are the trolls? I’ve spent a month just reading, and the greater part of the dialogue has been enlightening and respectful. Everyone has been kind in their own way.

They say writing is a solitary craft, but I have learned about as much in the past month as I managed to teach myself in my years of solitary efforts.

Warm fuzzies to all.