resolved to finding ~


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I’ve heard tell
of skies so blue –
swallows would be
where clouds for fear of flight –
would roll away
I’ve heard of tears –
ten thousand more
than e’er the heart could suffer –
sorrows tucked
between the dusk
and day

I’ve heard of truths –
the ancient kind
would pull the soul asunder
and lies
would ne’er to think
of causing pain
I’ve heard
of roads beyond the light
paths still left to wander –
a place resolved
to finding –
our way
to love again

. . .


the restlessness between ~


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how seldom this
the beautiful
from which I beg release
nights to nurse
the darkness
without shame
started long ago
secrets let me tell
about the boy –
I dare not speak his name

or suffer bliss
a moment more
than death will take
of me
warmth to ease
the restlessness between
our first kiss
and forever –
illusion of a sort
lessons –
lest I wonder still
what of all love means

. . .

reminders following a three hour commute to work ~


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Once safely here, I was reminded of a snippet from Sunday’s message.

The speaker talked about perusing Facebook to look at all the pictures taken during last week’s eclipse. What he saw was something we all witnessed. Millions of people, without regard to politics, race, belief, gender or opinion – all doing one thing –

looking up………

Let us not be fooled into thinking we need a sign…..


Author’s Note:  Photo taken from atop of our office parking garage during totality on Monday, August 21.

within a dream ~


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daddy's birds

soul –
was I a reminder
of times beyond your reach
a story (stitched
from memory) –
echoes of release

words and verses
to places (without name)
a time when there
was nothing –
(and everything) the same

of lives
before our breathing
a souvenir (or two)
a journey made within
a dream –
(the only way
we knew)

. . .

Author’s Note:  I’m not sure where this started, but was pleased with the result.  Then, as I was looking for an image to accompany, I found this one – of the birds outside my daddy’s window more than a year ago.  Of lives before our breathing, a souvenir (or two)…. ❤

lives before I knew ~


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of time
I’ve held my measure
(o so fine)
and lives before
I knew

of a color –
(my favored few)
all I hold
is holding (still)
another other

as winter softens
by the light
(a softer glow)
for memories
to gather
(from the cold)

of roads
we thought (forever)
a coming back
for a moment (touching
time becoming

. . .

pondering –


, , , , , ,


from the meadow
buffaloes appear
and graze on treetops
careless they float
in ether –
the leaves they nibble
are higher than my roof
and soon their spring feeding
will change to a fall
of crackling orange cover
on tin roofs
(they do not see me)
in their reality –
they are a spell
of my imagination
while I bask in fading sunlight
though one day
when we all dream
these clouds will become
as precious
as the people
who seal our hearts in love
or a moment –
the origins of shooting stars

. . .