I heard David Whyte read his poems seven years ago and again recently. Now, as then, he spoke of his dear friend and fellow poet, John...

Maple Tree calls to me. Her enchantment lifts my eyes beyond my electronic screen. “Notice me,” she says. And I do. The lush green of...

Uncovered and cold, worn thin, about to corrode, I stumble through life’s gray days. Kneeling in desperation, frantic for a breath of...

for Janey on her 47th birthday “Lick, drink, suck,” my big sis and I instructed the tequila novice seated at the card playing table. As...

I have never aspired to be a fireman or an astronaut or the president. I have dreamed to wake up as a Wild Flower. A wild flower with...

Today is the day. Today is the day you bury your husband - the love of your days, the lilt in your song. Today is the day you walk away...

Thoughts of you float forward sitting in stillness walking in silence laying in darkness. How we were intimately intertwined: You,...

Not chocolate or ice cream or meat, not alcohol or cigarettes or cussing, oh no, none of these. It seems I have given up sleep for Lent....

The edging light commands the lined rock to dance in orange and pink hues as the Arizona sun sinks behind the mesa. We stand and embrace,...

Normally I reserve this blog for original poetry. But today is different. The poet of my heart, Mary Oliver, died today. As a...