Faith, Fiction, Friends

A flat tire introduced me to the sirens and their mother. Before I knew Terpsichore as a muse or the mother of sirens, I knew her as a stree...

Another poetry prompt poem, this one from last month at Tweetspeak Poetry . Gathering A single plant, a native, no less, officially  Monarda...

I ran across this poem from six years ago; it showed up in a Facebook memory and I'd forgotten I'd written it. It was a response to ...

It takes scant notice of me, which is part of the pull, I suppose. I am the only creature I can see or hear  in this place, a...

Darkness proceeds, gathering strength, chasing the cotton cloth of light as it, in turn, diminishes, a few vestiges still scatter...

Look for your passion, they said. Look straight ahead, they said. Look at what you’ve accomplished, they said. Look for what insp...

We were children, running upward through foot-high grass, playing chase and you’re it and sometimes when we were ambitious an a...

It is a trail, flat, winding its paved way around a placid lake, a silent timepiece, minutes and seconds sounding with each s...

I’ve never tried growing them before, but now I’m tending six heads of butter lettuce,  watering and fertilizing and tearing aw...

People seeing it for the first time called it, variously, jungle or desert, the grasses taller than a man on horseback. Westward ...

I never met him, or even heard of him, to be honest, until the day I hiked up the almost vertical trail to the bluff. I c...

He stares at the open refrigerator. Shelves, mostly empty, except for a block of cheddar, three eggs, lettuce that’s seen better ...

We crowd each other, younger jostling older as we politely fight for air and sun and rain and decomposition of most things th...