they’re calling for rain today,
this craptastic Wednesday,
but I see opportunity—
poetry, a good book, baking bread,
sourdough starter, perhaps—
a stunning extravaganza
of daydreaming quality time
perfectly, uniquely just for me

they’re calling for rain today,
this craptastic Wednesday,
but I see opportunity—
poetry, a good book, baking bread,
sourdough starter, perhaps—
a stunning extravaganza
of daydreaming quality time
perfectly, uniquely just for me
6:05 am,
timestamp
for when
I became Mother.
today, I celebrate
my son’s entrance
into the world,
one never again
to be the same,
not since his raucous
debut on this planet!
an empty house
bereft of seed
cardinals & finches
plunder the earth
for what they might find
beneath the feeder
swaying wildly
in the breeze
This week’s number is 198 and here are the photos in my Archives with that number. Kudos to Judy for this fun weekly challenge!







weary & depleted,
she pauses, ever so briefly,
in her deliberations
bulbous blooms
drooping, fading
leaning toward
past-their-prime.
a snip here, a tuck there
secateurs inserted
just above the node —
striving to neither maim nor kill.
My poem, little crooked creek, appears in today’s Substack posting of The Winged Moon Literary Magazine. I hope you’ll like it.
black smoke, billowing
heat of a thousand roaring fires
unrepentant abandon
petite, a head shorter than me
a young nurse takes my vitals—
her tiny, pale pink nails
honey locust leafy boughs,
tumultuous spring-green explosion—
the pleasant entirety
of my sunroom window view
Chit Chat