Of Courage and Joy

Of Courage and Joy

No one tells you how courageous you must be to grow old
The oldest are often the bravest
No one tells you how many times a heart can be broken or

How many times it can heal
No one tells you your body will fight against you and
Vigilance will become your watch word

No one tells you about how much love a human heart can hold
And still have room for more
No one tells you that joy comes in the form of chickadees

And children’s laughter
Yet, when they tell you that the best is yet to come
You do not believe

A Question of Abundance

A Question of Abundance

The crocus and daffodils are blooming
and there is an abundance of small white
flowers in the herb garden – unwanted weeds

that I will have to pull, if it ever stops raining
On my front porch I found a small yellow
butterfly, a sign that the weather is finally

turning warmer and a reminder that my
abundant weeds are its abundant food source
Weeding can wait

A Song in the Storm

A Song in the Storm

A small, clear voice sang out
amid the storm of men at war –
a movie song, a moving song.
A call to peaceful action, a voice
to calm the fears of children everywhere.
A song that children sing from homes,
and schools – from street corners and bunkers.
A voice heard by nations and people
unlike her own, yet understood by all.
A child with the wisdom that children possess,
a wisdom that is lost in the foolishness of growing up

Of Poem and Nonsense

Of Poem and Nonsense

This poem is tied up in (k)nots trying to
make sense of the letters swirling around


it – Syllables that won’t keep time, tripping
over metered clown feet – Phrases


of the moon lined up and made to
stan(d)za in groups of four or maybe two


What’s a poem to do when there is no
rhyme or season to its form? When it finds


itself trickling away into an inky stain on paper ?

Wrapped Up

Wrapped Up

She tried to catch up, match
up with those trending, mending
rending things until she was wrung dry

She tried to tweet sweet nothing
into space and time until her chirping dried up
She tried not to give up, live up to

some made up expectations that weren’t her
own until her muse was filled up with nonsense
Then she grabbed up some paper and some

deep blue ink and wrapped herself tightly
into the safety of her own mixed up poem

Synthetic Smells

Synthetic Smells

They sell smells boxed and bottled,
ready for noses unused to nature.
Lavender and rose petals packaged
in plastic – manufactured smells
from a laboratory by people in
white coats and hair nets who
work under artificial lights and
breath artificial air. I long to walk
with them in my garden, to share
the warm yellow light of the sun,
and let them brush their hands
across lavender and sage until
they find the smell of peace.

Frozen Promise

Frozen Promise

It happens every year –
and still I hope
All it takes are a few sunny days,
a couple warmish nights,
and the Magnolia tree in my
neighbor’s yard is adorned with
plump pinky buds full of promise
It happens ever year –
a frosty night forces the buds to
shrivel up in brown sweaters
promises unkept
It happens every year –
and still I hope

The Squirrel Forest

The Squirrel Forest

She laughs at the squirrel running
back and forth across her yard
frantically burying acorns in random

places. Will it ever remember
each spot so it can return in barren
winter to dig up that morsel?

She knows that in the spring
she will be pulling saplings from
her flower beds, left overs from

some hidden bounty. As she watches,
she wanders if it might have been squirrels
that planted the forest at the edge of her yard.