New Light (A Poem)

Through the gate and
into the cold winter world,
the New Year comes to greet the Old.
Not to replace or relive,
but revive –
tired hands,
tired hearts,
tired minds –
and bring new light
to the darkest days.

That Friday Feeling (A Poem)

That Friday feeling:
at the end of the week,
either too tired to move
or ready to seek out the party.
Or, perhaps neither –
just looking to read a book
(or two)
(or three).
I admit,
it’s easy to be caught up
in the swing of the world
and the speed of the days,
to measure your progress
in emails and spreadsheets,
and forget to slow down
and just be.
So take it –
that Friday feeling, I mean –
and make it whatever you need.
Call it a night,
or read something good,
or do something nice,
or keep the lights on
until morning.
I promise,
while you’re resting
or dancing
or reading,
or taking a moment to breathe,
the planet will keep turning.

A Solstice Flamenca

Another poetry challenge from Fake Flamenco! And another poetry form I’ve never tried: a flamenca. And y’all, this was most definitely challenging, but also really fun. I always love a chance to flex my writing muscles in a new way. So, enjoy! And if you want to participate, too, the deadline to post is Sunday, December 12th.


The old year turns to new
with a promise of light.
The darkest of days
reminds a weary earth
there’s peace in the night sky.

The Monday Special (A Poem)

In last night’s pajamas,
throw together:
Ambition, with a dash
of anxiety.
Just a sprinkle of
and a pinch
of “I got this!”
Add a cup of coffee.
(Make that two, actually…)
Shake and mix well.
Serve with a side
of “Oh, hell,
I forgot about that…”
The Monday Special:
Order up!

The Last of the Year (A Poem)

The last of the year,
the shortest of days,
a high bright moon
in a new winter haze –
December descends,
the darkest of months,
in stoic shades
of white and gray.
But there’s beauty
in the spartan landscape
and comfort in the cold air:
a peaceful silence,
a slant of light,
a joy in rest
and in the hope of
fresh fallen snow,
a gift in the season of giving
and a spirit in knowing
the season is fleeting.
All things must
come to an end,
and in ending can
begin again.

The Language of the Grove (A Poem)

I’d like to know
the language of the grove,
to understand the subtle
conversation of the trees.
To speak without words,
to give and to take
as they need,
to sustain and support
through heat waves and storms –
there’s a special kind of magic
in those ancient roots
and rustling leaves.

Three Celestial Tanka

I wrote these for the November 2021 Poetry Challenge over at Fake Flamenco (which is a wonderful blog that you should definitely go visit and follow). I’ve never written a tanka before, or done a poetry challenge, for that matter, so I had some fun and wrote a few different poems. Enjoy! And if you want to participate, too, the deadline to post is Sunday, November 16th.    


The moon and the sun

They are sisters eternal

Each in her own place

They bring balance to the sky

And harmony to mankind


I can hold it all

Stars and moon, the midnight sky

Wrapped close in my arms

The velvet dark and blue light

A cosmic lover kept safe


Paint the stars with me

Dream the dreams and name the lights

Sing songs of elders

Deep in the dark sky’s belly

Awaken the living flame

My Monday Blues (A Poem)

And here we are again,
aren’t we?
A blasé Monday
spent checking things
off the list
(the interminable list).
It’s pretty mundane, sure
(but made better by sunshine
and maybe some good wine
at dinner).
And the hits, well, yeah
they do keep coming,
but that’s not so bad
because life does keep going.
And, hey, as it stands,
at least I’m not bored.