Clay Pot and Wood Fence
Clay and Wood, old friends
Chatting about earth’s seasons
When is snow coming?

Falling Star
Falling star tonight
Fireball streaking towards the earth
Wish I could catch it

Catching Water
Calm water ripples
Disturbed by my tiny hand
Cool beneath the blue



Nightmares. The shadow dreams, the subtle edge of darkness that creeps across the sleeping mind evoking inner demons to dance the macabre behind the shuttered windows of the soul. 



Pensive water pools around pale ankles
Undulating in waves outward
With the tap, tap, tap of my bare foot beneath the surface.

Reflections, perspectives of the world, of self, of light
Shadows of deeds almost forgotten, folding between shining glimpses
of the ripple not yet made.
All colliding with the constant rhythm of moment by moment.

The ripple, clearer at the source; the foot, the tap beneath the water-
Fading into oblivion as a new tap forms a new water hill, water valley,
Water hill…
Shadow, sunlight, self, a jumble.



Fevered flesh on fevered flesh
Consummating the soul’s desire.
To quench the ache to know and be known


Liquid Diversity

Chatter, chatter, chatter-Clink, clink, clink
The cacophony of those who take coffee with their sugar and sugar with their tea.
A drink. A think. A conversation over liquid diversity.
Under the bright lights, I write; surrounded by the bustle of busy mom’s and graying Grans; of boisterous teens a week away from desks and secret trysts in dusky shadows of the schoolyard.
My thoughts wander. My heart strays to days of love and laughter and I miss him. To kiss him; my love. Stolen quiet moments of our own; rain on the window pane, arms, hands, lips, tongues. Green eyes gazing into green eyes. The miles fade in memories-fade-the separation of ocean and sky- fade-salty miles, salty tears.
Clink, clink, clink – Chatter, chatter, chatter.
A think. A drink. A spout of laughter over liquid diversity.
The cacophony of those who like cream with their coffee and biscuits with their tea….and me…alone…I write under the bright lights and long for the clock to strike October.


Confessions of a wallflower

A wallflower sits, pen in hand, watching the flow of life and time around her.

Below that surface of peace, behind the mask she shows the world when it chooses to even notice her, the shadows of fear and insecurity creep, rooting themselves in the heart, binding her closer to that wall, keeping her from her dreams, waiting, watching, worrying about the results, wishing she could just leap from that wall, wishing to sprout wings like the butterflies she sees around her; and take flight to her dreams, to a heaven that waits only for her, if only she could be sure she would sprout wings and not fall to the hard cold cement below.

Calmly she waits for the fear to pass, she waits for the perfect moment to leap into the storm called life.

Doesn’t she know that time is the mortal enemy that causes petals to wither, walls to crumble, and dreams to fade?

Everyday is a gift.

Fear is the dream stealer.

Get off the wall, and quick.

Head for the storm of life, it’s probably not as stormy as it seems.

Immediately the fear loosens it’s grip and those roots start to weaken.


Keeping the constant chorus of what ifs quiet is impossible, and she hesitates replacing fear with doubt.

Lost in confusion, the battle begins again, the battle between doubt and desire, the roots, the wall, and the wallflower all at odds with each other.

Madness overtakes the little flower; she knows what she has to do.

No longer is she willing to live the safe symbiotic life on the wall, a life filled with fear and doubt, she can live without them.

Overwhelmed with emotion she jumps.

Plummeting off her wall, no safety net in site, her roots streaming behind her, broken and torn, she falls, faster, wind ripping her petals off one by one, she prays, prays for God to give her wings to fly.


Rising from the darkness, she soars.

Soaring over the wall, over the fear, over the darkness, she is free.

Taking flight in her new found freedom she smiles and wonders what she had been so afraid of.

Unchained from the wall, she realizes she is no longer a wallflower, but a beautiful butterfly.

Vivacious and colorful, she has survived.

Wishes can come true and fear can be conquered, and even wallflowers can fly.

Xtreme joy fills her heart.

You can’t beat time, but you can race it, she says to herself.

Zipping through the air, her newfound wings carry her to new heights, and never will she sit on the wall again.