Kisses to the Wind

I am not ready for this.
Everything within me has emptied into want.
I want more time. I want to hug you.
I want to tell you one more thing.

Had I always known you would leave on this exact day,
From this place, at this time,
I would have been no better prepared.
I am no good at goodbyes.

As a child waves and waves and waves
To loved-ones driving out of sight,
Far past the point any human eye can see,
I stand gazing at the edge of your departure.

My hand, raised in farewell, hovers in the air.
I do not think I shall ever put it down.
The child blows kisses to the wind,
My love follows you forever.


The bonfire beckons.
The pale winter sun has left us wanting,
Hungry for brightness and warmth.
The tall flames speak to us of light.
The thick, resinous scent of evergreen
Greets our senses as we approach.
A branch shifts, making room
and a pile of pine boughs
Cascades into the flames
Snapping and popping
Emitting swirls of red comets
Spiraling up to hiss upon the tree tops.
We watch the embers’ flight,
Until our reverence is drawn off
By a somber wolf, bemoaning our warmth.
Her momentary solo, soon a chorus
Her scattered pack joining together
To admonish our interruption of the night.


Inward, the spirit urges
As Ice fog footprints follow
The slice of moonbeam in my hand
To a place where the tall pines clot.

The cimmerian silence within,
Coaxes forth the bittersweet
Gently debriding my soul.
At peace for the light’s return.

Winter (for Sandy)  

I am familiar with winter.
The chill snap in the air.
Clouds of breath fogging my lenses.
Yet,  my eyes are not jaded.

I have seen the first winter
Through the eyes of my children.
I have marveled,repeatedly
At delicate,fragile flakes of snow.

I have treasured the glow of the hearth
As it warms my bones,
And kindles memories of those passed
Melting any ice in my heart.

God’s own angels
Rest beneath my wings.
My love for them
As deep as the Valdez snow.

​An Ode to Cryptic Posts



So sad. 

Can’t wait! 

Make it stop. 

I’m so happy. 

I’ve got a secret. 

I hate my life. 

Wish I could tell you… 

No one would believe me. 
I really hate those cryptic posts, 

But now  I’ve a secret too. 
You’ll never guess in a million years. 

And  I’m not going to tell you.

Sip of Silly

I think that I’ll go out and play
with the words that are in my head.
They peck at me both night and day
even when I am in bed.

My various moods, they do discern
whether joyous or downright pitiful
and stack their roster carefully
to make my rest most… fitiful?

So when peckish I will meet
toothsome, sweet and yummy
but when disheartened I’m sure to find
dire dolefuls dumped upon me.

In happy times I entertain
jollitity, mirth and glee
but when I sit to write them down…
What imps! They abandon me.

Morning Muse

My nonchalant cat, racing along the baseboards, indicates to me that we have a guest. Likely a small shrew that, in the still of an empty house, appears in size tenfold.

The snout is what intimidates. Probing and poking, devoid of attraction. The antithesis of appealing. I shudder at its unverified existence, hypothesizing its demise.

The shrew’s doom born solely of my imagining.

Love Is

Love is born of many moments.
Love thrives in togetherness.
Love calls us to reveal ourselves to one another.
Love is trust.

Love changes with every breath we take.
Love challenges, love surges,
Love calls us to grow.
Love is dynamic.

Love is not blind to struggles and shortcomings.
Love is relentless, persistent
Love has a will to survive.
Love is a decision.

Love is demanding, love is giving.
Love exists through darkness.
Love lives in it’s own light.
Love is a promise.