Category: Poetry

Owls call. They speak to one another in a language that only they know. Yet, you are a part of their missive. Their words travel over your eardrums,

“It will pass,” my grandfather said to me on his dying bed. He meant the moment. He meant my concerns. He meant his life. And in that glimmering

Wild and free like the wind that blows The desert it speaks to me It tells me tales of long ago Centuries that the eye can see Here

Sun and dust soak my skin In a desert bath   Scented by purple flowers Fresh from the earth’s womb   Branch and limb- human and tree Hear

Breathe sweet precious air Into lungs For life   Laugh, long, loud, and full Bringing air To joy   Sing sweet melodies Creating life As love   Shout

Those Words Rich and luxurious words echo through my being before I am even aware of them. Gazing at the one I have only just met but know

Perfect YES! Intersection   I’ll see you at the perfect intersection of our lives where the only obvious answer is YES!!   YES! YES! YES!

The Lion, The Bear, and The Stag   “If it’s not one, it’s the other he said,” after The Lion had taken the neighbor’s dog— right in front

Freya’s Offering   We expected the bear Thought he would come for the apples Who came was the lion For the fluffy lady cat   He came for

Is Mercury Retrograde (Or do these things REALLY have something to do with one another?)   Half of my belongings ride around in my car with me wherever