Poetry: Plumeria
I have just settled in with a blanket, cat on my lap, book of poetry in my hand, when I hear the bells ring. Four Tibetan brass bells, bought at…
Poetry: Full Moon Over Elfin Forest
The opportunity for new insight can so easily pass us by— that potential opening to life lost. With this in mind, I pull on long johns, then sweatpants, turtleneck layered…
Poetry: Abundance
Morning light bathes my face and filigrees the edges of leaves like halos. The soul-stirring cry of a red-tailed hawk rings out as she flies searching across the sky. If…
Poetry: Winter
Photo by Ioana Kortis Every year as we enter crusty, frost covered mornings and evenings that turn dark way too soon, don’t you want to go back, or hurry through…
Poetry: The Pickers
The squirrels have not yet found the figs. They stole every single apricot on the newly planted tree in days, even though the roots are fortressed to keep gophers out,…