in my bedroom
on this side of the mirror,
i see a world of collected treasures.
many given to me by
my most precious treasures–
the souls i share this life with.
things made by hands i have held (and loved).
flowers, now dried
given to me by little people
with cherubic grace.
(buttercups, dandelions and roses)
i am surrounded by love
and devotion.
i am steeped in grace.
At least once a week, we drop off big sis at school early and go to a cafe nearby to do some freewriting or drawing. As we were crossing the street to enter the cafe today, my youngest and I waited for a shiny, black Corvette to park. It was extremely loud as the owner,…
I have been turned to ashes. It is time. Today marks my eleventh year of motherhood. I gave birth to my daughter, Alexandra, eleven years ago. My life has been deeply transformed during that time. The tower has fallen. It’s time for rebirth and renewal. Happy birthday, Alexandra. Happy birthing day to me (and to…
“You must not know too much or be too precise or scientific about birds and trees and flowers and watercraft; a certain free-margin, and even vagueness – ignorance, credulity – helps your enjoyment of these things.” – Walt Whitman The same is true of love, sexuality, sensuality, men and women. Sometimes we just have to…
Wild Geese by Mary Oliver You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine….