What I Didn’t Know



What I didn’t know is that there must be a fall.
Not the one when leaves twirl to the ground,

a carpet of jewels as first chill fills the air. Nor
one where a catch sends me to earth’s surface

bracing against unforgiving ground. There is
the fall as I reach for something, planned

and seeded and bloomed, then poisoned
with ego, a duo walking two paths, not one.

Not those. No, not those. When I let all fall away,
open my hands and allow them to rest by my side,

clean out my heart, make room for nightfall
to fill in crevices, except for that one simple flame,

yes, there, so small I almost miss it, the Flame that is
always there when I let my worry and fear just sit

until my eyes adjust, I slow my gait and breathe,
and I begin to feel the warmth of that tiny

growing, I allow it to seep out from every fissure for I
am broken open, no longer in control. It is there to light

my way, the way I continue on without map, without grasp, in
trust. I come to the precipice, nowhere else to go, no turning

back, toes curled over the edge, and I push off, leap, and there
is the fall into the arms of Spirit whispering I am enough.



leafand raindrop.jpg


There’s something
about the first rain of fall
when it comes, finally, to fill
in the cracked earth of
summer’s heat

A mollifying, reminding one
that change will come,
regardless, and without
our doing, or undoing

As we circle and spin,
we transform
by our living, re-shape by
what passes over and
around and through us

There is no control, none
really needed, just patience
and some stillness
to sanction the interval
until drops upon the roof
announce their arrival

Arise, a haibun




She hid under lush leaves of summer hoping to be lost to the gatherer’s touch. Deep inside she watched as gentle fingers lifted pieces to be housed in safety over winter’s time. And snow came. Cold endured by only the strongest. Rain to quench when dry days lingered too long. Finally, she let herself be noticed as sun grew long and earth made way for new growth. Her journey complete, a jubilant wink greeted her summer friend.

rain feeds earth
spirit grows within
life ascends







Author’s Note:

Today is a preview, an Early-Bird Prompt for NaPoWriMo, National Poetry Writing Month.

This is a haibun.

What a wonderful start!

Rose Yellow

There is a bush of rose yellow where bloom tightly binds
through first frost protected by bough of
precious crabapple and wall of brick and mortar.

The few last petals cling to stem,
thorns useless for no passerby would pluck
such ragged bud to prove one’s love.

I clear away all that presents itself boldly just for show,
to see your grip as though it’s spring awakening.

Here I am comforted by your gentleness,
emboldened by your sense of strength in your own being,
and conceive that which only you know resides within.



It drew me out to the street, bare feet, pajama clad.
It didn’t matter, no one was there,
not even my neighbor’s yipping mongrel,
or her teenage son raging behind his wheel.

It was scent of winter rain,
you know the kind when air is full to its brim.
A slight chill hinted snow not quite ready to fall.

I paused under a yellow slivered glow
hooded in thin streaked clouds,
inhaled with such deep reverence
I lifted from my grounding.

In between seasons, as one couples to the next,
I am tilted off balance able to abrade infinity.


A gentle kind of madnessIMG_2264
takes me by the hand
as fog nestles within the gyre,
a game of hide-and seek ensues.

Overtaken under steel gray billow,
rain anoints my face, a lavish liturgy
unpinned from above.

Sweet lunacy fills my being
as autumn requests a partner,
twist and spin, a samba
under a tangerine ball.




Author’s Note:

I love the fall. 🙂



An overnight dusting
on frontier peaks notified
summer to ready itself for
abdication to a new hemisphere.
And still, a fan whirrs its caution,
fall is not yet willing to settle in.

Cicada tymbal and cricket choir
rise behind a prop plane spurring
toward its terminus.

Finally, softness resolves the day
under dowager locust’s lacy arms
gently brushing away irrelevancy.

I absolve myself at this day’s end
without contrition, tomorrow’s worry
dormant as halftone lines and curves
meld into the shadow sky of bedtime.

Lovely Wild Thing

The maple in my front yard
hides a street sign
shadows the stop sign
the tree we’ve been told
to trim back
chop smaller
so passers-by can see
is turning colors

The grande dame
makes a summer entrance
a velvet green whorl
verdant life thick through
trunk and limbs
flowing into tender leaf veins
much as my life blood pulses
through indigo courses
into my out stretched palms
aching to touch the sky

green slowly
almost imperceptibly
releases something
gifted by summer sun
this noble being whispers
a time to slow down
and a golden hue emerges
when the sun falls low alighting
limbs and leaves
in a yellow green glow

As I reach down
pick up the morning news
I turn my face
toward the lovely wild thing
to see emerald faded
yellow spreading its aurora

There is a bit of sadness
in the cycle of surrender
knowing what was
will never be again
not the same way
different next time around

I wrap my robe tighter
against early dawn’s chill
brush away fallen leaves
garnishing the daily post
I too will fall to earth
dry and cracked one day
making room
for new breath
shimmering in sun’s presence

Midsummer’s Fever

The monsoon has moved on. The wind
is stilled. Leaden scarves blown from

evening’s facade unveil a keen indigo
backdrop of lucent stars flickering in

approval. The cool edge of rainstormed
nights has softened to a mellow flush.

I know what this means. Soon swelter
will make its entrance without remorse.

Days will simmer and nights will swoon,
not as lovers impassioned, but indifferent

consorts consummating their roles in
midsummer’s fervor. We will groan with fever

and sleep uneasy until once more, day pares
down and eventide spreads politely obliged.




Author’s Note:

Our summer heat is finally arriving. They say it will be close to 100 degrees tomorrow. Almost, but not quite a record. The monsoon and cool weather has made for green grass and lush gardens this year without the need for too much extra watering. A summer blessing for this dry, hot state of Colorado. As always, I will welcome the fall.