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!




Death of the Heart

Smash a thousand ruby hearts
just picked on a Sunday morning in June.

Add sugar and pectin and a drop of vanilla.
Boil violently. Yes, violently.

Pour into crystal clear jars.
Screw on lids. Not too tightly.

If you followed all the rules,
you’ll hear the jars seal shut.

A little sucking in.
A sharp inhale.

Then stack the dead hearts
on a dark pantry shelf.

Or, give them all away.
Yes, it’s better to get rid of them.

Before you can’t
stand to part with them.

Weekly photo challenge: Quest


Yesterday was a beautiful day for a walk on the beach. I took a bag with me and went in search of white stones tumbled by the Atlantic. The stones on this beach are especially smooth and large. Each time I bent over to pick up a rock, I thought that this one was the whitest I had found. These are just some of my collection.

Weekly photo challenge: Summer lovin’

I was in Wickford the other night, so I visited the giant lotus pond on Rte. 1 again. We found the lotus three years ago after Mallory and Seth’s wedding, and I’ve visited the past three summers. It seems other-worldly to me every time I go, and it’s something I love to do. The leaves are large platters and the lotus are like porcelain.