My poem “4:20 am” published in the weekly Avocet – a magazine focusing on nature and all its breathtaking wonder.
my poem “4:20 am” (attached below) is in the weekly Avocet – issue #262 –
Avocet link if you’d like to submit writing to this important publication for Mother Earth
frost creeps into the holes of my old moccasins
the taffy-stretched shadow of a red sunset maple
reaches across the dark grass
as if she too
desires the moon’s infinite perfection
stars tuck away in their opaque shells
this is autumn’s whisper
I peek through my eyelashes
must commit to memory
must etch my soul with rehearsed minutes
before tomorrow’s living
rubs out this wonder
I remain frozen in my silent place
knowing the sun will wipe away
the beautiful moon
this pristine silent moment
don’t want to go back inside a walled house
wish I could honestly tell you
a love affair with nature
enticed me from my bed
at 4:15 AM
my Dachshund needed to pee
baby elf sketch created a few years back with pencil
I rarely post videos. When I do, they’re musically driven.
I adore Helen Humes, spitfire R&B diva’s version of, “Drive Me Daddy,” a ‘let’s-go-let-it-go,’ song.
Through this song, Miss Hume’s captures a fearless, life-affirming style!
I can’t help but smile, smirk and sing along.
THOUGHTS OUT TO TEXAS THIS MORNING
Veery excited to announce 2 new poems published in Foxglove Journal!my poem, dogeared inspiration, in FOXGLOVE JOURNAL
I dogeared a page in your book
of inspirational quotes, Volume Two.
The one you keep in the nightstand
on your side of the bed.
The bed we never should have bought
with that money. Rather than a bamboo
pillowtop, we should have invested
in help from voices other than our own.
When you wake and find I’m not here
fitting into the lump our sleep pattern created
on a mattress supposedly resistant to lumps–
If you shuffle to the dog-eared page
of inspirational quotes, Volume Two,
perhaps you’ll figure out why
I was inspired to leave.
s it dark magic that occurs
behind a wet curtain
a blanket of steam spray cascades down your flesh
is it darker magic still
when your eyes close
slight-of-hand for the senses
touch vibrates the clean sudsy silk
no floral bouquet or inattentive perfumes
no phony scent of any kind
like morning dreams
pouring over you
awash in clear mercy
when the frothing in your head
caresses the patterned tiles
and floats away in shimmering bubbles
the spray cuts off
the curtain draws back
the steam dissipates
in one breathless moment
the spell ceases
like a heartbeat
evaporates out the window
along with your fantasies