Nov 30 2013

cold hands, warm heart

The snow came just before Thanksgiving, making life feel a tiny bit magical and bringing us together, here at home, in the way that snowstorms do.

For the past few days I’ve been surrounded by family and food and snow and blankets and books and fires.

My body still doesn’t feel so good, but my heart feels wonderful.

Filled with love and gratitude, hope and happy.

A snow globe I’d be glad to stay in.



Nov 27 2013

the year of living fiftyishly

It seemed like a big year (it was definitely a big number). It seemed like something momentous should happen, something grand accomplished, some milestone achieved that would mark time’s passing in a less than usual way.

And it was, and it wasn’t. It did, and it didn’t.

In truth, it was another year very much like all the years before it, and for that, I am grateful. I didn’t achieve the goals I set for myself, although I did make progress towards them. And I am okay with that. Because the truth is, life happens. The truth is that today is one more day on my life calendar, and the truth is, this is the day that matters most. The one I’m in, right now.

I’m waiting for the results of more medical tests today, and hoping for good news.

I’m looking out the window of my studio just now and it’s a gorgeous winter wonderland, made even better by the fact that I don’t have to drive anywhere.

My son is already home for the holiday, and we had a nice evening together last night, just chatting and being together.

I am re-reading The Book Thief, because something told me it was just the right time to do so.

I’m looking at my snow-covered life and making snow angels in my mind. I’m rolling around in the ordinary magic that makes up this very ordinary day in a very ordinary year in a very ordinary life.

And trust me, I mean that in all the best possible of ways.

I’m reveling in the ordinary. This moment right now with the house so quiet and snow still falling and a cup of tea in my hands to warm them.

I’m going to make oatmeal for breakfast.

And savor the simple truth of this moment.

I’m going to say goodbye to 50 and hello to 51. I always have liked odd numbers best.

I’m going to give this new year a big hug and ask it to join me.

I have a feeling we’re going to be great friends.

Nov 26 2013

running through the veins
of illumination

you cannot deny the light

the way it colors everything
with the existence of shadow

i see hope in the mirror
of cracked faces

something deeper than darkness

some glimmer of innocence and
arbitrary renewal

random patterns weaving evidence
of participation

the glow of reverence

your compass leads the way
with no reflection

crazed crackled map
of delicate edges

leading to your last deliverance

Nov 21 2013


with your heart
with your mind
with your soul

to listen
to ask permission
to be defined

your music
is your legacy
your song
your essence

refuse to be silenced

slice through the dark
with the call
of your hunger

unleash your fury

in the presence
of light

Nov 19 2013


warmth of sun
melting midnight crystal

the flag of patience
waves a cold, cold breeze

one touch too soon
and all will crumble

Nov 16 2013


A good word to describe what I’m feeling just now as I navigate my way through a medical system that seems to work in all ways backward.

Frosted as in, “That really frosts my cookies.”

Which is a phrase that makes me laugh, and I have no idea what it really means, but the fact that it makes me laugh is enough.

For now.

Because if I don’t laugh, I’m going to cry. Or yell.

Now, who wants a cookie?




Nov 14 2013

my beautiful mess
remains messy

and this is my life right now.

i focus on the beautiful part,
the first dusting of snow,
the wind in tall grasses,
12 crows in the beige back field.

things taken for granted
are cherished once again.

frustration is an ugly word,
an impossible puzzle.
this word sits on my shoulder these days,
tap tap tapping… just to make certain
i do not forget.

i tell myself this will pass.
i tell myself that spring will come
with tiny green shoots and blood red roses.

i tell myself, again and again.

a bluejay lands outside my window,
a message to stay strong.

fight back.

rosehips and berries offer food
from a dry, barren landscape.

we eat, together.

and this is my life right now.



Nov 12 2013

you lost your keys and i
fell in love with modigliani

as i stood there waiting in a dust filled corner
smote and smitten with the angle
of a sun designed to rip my heart out
while you cursed and carried on

everything is always locked

but the eyes of this dark-haired girl
in a poster tacked to the blank back wall
her empty stare covering the hole
you drunk-punched open

on a night i will always remember

she knows everything about you
and i can’t read that droll expression
yet if i stand here long enough
in this spot of dancing light

my shadow will become her

Nov 7 2013


Everything in life feels off center and crooked. Odd angles jutting here and there through a forest of misguided direction.

Of course, you can’t see the big picture when you hover so low to the ground. Too many shadows, obstacles, possibilities.

Rise above.

Rise above.

Look down at yourself and laugh at how tiny it all becomes.

Soar higher, until all detail is lost. Until there’s just a quiet quilt far beneath you, waiting to cushion your landing.

Don’t land until you have to. Tail wind, tailspin, kite flyer.

Holding on to air is just as difficult as clinging to nobody’s hand.

Don’t let go.



Coast again.

You are the compass in an ocean of sunlight. Your shadow points in every direction.

Light, dark, light, dark through a checkerboard of miles.

Pack lightly. Travel far.

Circle back.

Begin again.


Nov 5 2013

forest quiet

december colors

wrapped in august light

the softest of shadows

in a promise of night