Collecting rocks


I come to this empty beach
to collect rocks
worn smooth from tumbling against
each other and rolling
in and out with the tide for eons.

Today, I search for pure white marbles.
Another day, it will be heart stones
or large, flat pancakes
with flecks and sparkles.

As I wander down the beach,
my breath matches the waves
that break against the shore.
I wish to be nowhere else but here.

I know something more about rocks
polished by the sea.
For I , too, have been tumbled smooth and hard.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
I carry my rocks with me.


April is National Poetry Month and I set the goal to write a poem a day. I have six more days to go — and it’s been a great joy to be playing with words again. You can find my month of poems here:

Thank you for reading!




Weekly photo challenge: prolific

The word “prolific” describes the feelings and images of a recent trip to Thailand and Cambodia — loads of Buddhas, overloaded trucks, trinkets in the Bangkok markets and the incredible expanse of of Angkor Wat, the largest religious monument in the world.

The URL for this challenge is:

_MG_3979_[1]_MG_4114_[1]_MG_4319_MG_4382bangkok 3img_3594

I used to lift high in the sky

And every night was an adventure.
I didn’t fly, I simply lifted at will,
looking down without fear
at the world below.

No one looked up
while I was suspended overhead,
and I had no concerns
about the people below.

I didn’t see a string,
but something guided me,
softly lifting and lightly touching down.

Tonight, I will more likely
be naked while no one notices
or running late to take a test
that I haven’t studied for.

No wonder I lie awake for hours.


Weekly photo challenge: Rise/set

To illustrate rise, the softest pinks and purples of an early morning sunrise from a quiet cove at Lake Winnipesaukee, New Hampshire.


To illustrate set, an ominous sunset after an unforgettable tornado and high winds slammed through Fargo, North Dakota, on an otherwise quiet, mid-summer day.




Weekly photo challenge: Green!

When death enters

IMG_7859 (2)

We have no words of welcome for you here.

Did you take a wrong turn, forget the address?

What purpose in taking this woman, this mother, this wife?

What twist of fate have you tapped into?

Why slip in to take this life without a whisper?

We’re left to make sense of your choices.

To find purpose in a life without.

To recreate faith and hope.

That’s what humans do

after you leave.