Old hands, new tricks . . .
“Every flower holds the whole mystery in its short cycle, and in the garden we are never far away from death, the fertilizing, good, creative death.” ~May Sarton
“She is so bright and glorious that you cannot look at her face or her garments for the splendor with which she shines. For she is terrible with the terror of the avenging lightening, and gentle with the goodness of the bright sun; and both her terror and her gentleness are incomprehensible to humans .... Continue Reading →
Under the boughs Turtle clouds come and go Dissolving into blue skies Angel ladies dance behind the ridges. Two boys toss a coin Give each other four minutes a piece Rolling down a small green knoll Scooting over trolls. A minute rolls by, Time kept safely in the hands of boys Who determine minutes by... Continue Reading →
It didn’t rain last night or the night before, someone dipped the sky into a tub of indigo it sparkled white where the dye resisted -or maybe those were stars dissolving into the firmaments fabric- It didn’t rain this morning, the sun glowered and the gladiolas withered under his hot gaze, weeping just a... Continue Reading →
I met a girl Clothed in emerald green A red scarf sparkling around her shoulders She flashed by careening, One second cartwheeling and humming, Another second her nose in a book, She came hovering over, All the while her fingers moved Plying a needle and thread Through roses. She looked at me, Chocolate eyes flashing... Continue Reading →
The lady loves books She reads to warblers and doves On a street corner
City of angels Oranges and lemons grow Buildings hide green groves