Sometimes everything has to be enscribed across the heavens so you can find the one line already written inside you. Sometimes it takes a great sky to find that small, bright, and indescribable wedge of freedom in your own heart. David Whyte

Labyrinthian Ways

Yesterday I walked the labyrinth
Traced path on canvas covering the floor
Church Meeting Hall transformed.
Mystical wordless moment spoke
Welcome so warm I shed tears
And knew at once I had arrived
At a place I know by heart
Promise of challenge and possibility.

Other pilgrims walked the path.
Silently we made our way
In to the center and out again
All moving, breathing, stepping wide
To let each other pass on narrow curves
As one people. With joy I laughed
To understand we are community
Joined in wide world by love.


Haiku: Blank Verse

Snow falls, melts away
Days of hibernation past
Stubborn muse sleeps on.


Haiku: Water Music

Swoosh of tires on street
Raindrops tattoo window pane
Sounds of quiet day.


Haiku: Respiration

World comes a-calling
Diluting my solitude
Offering fresh breath.

Outside my  window
Beyond tree and morning sky
Await poems to write.


Fashion Statement

My once-straight neck stooping
Peering into the mirror
Who is that old woman I spy?
Vaguely familiar I think I do know her
Can it be she is I?

Yesterday friend gave appraisal of me
As one “who is dwelling within my own skin”.
High compliment I received it
And now contemplate it
My settling into vintage-aged years.

Living in harmony with effects of aging
Softens the blow of multiple nuisances
Brought on by years of my being younger.
My body must deal with the natural calamity
Of living a rich life – and then getting old.

A new tool I discover and add to my arsenal
A distinct sharpening of my sense of humor.
My larger belly is wonderful for laughing
Loud, unselfconscious guffaws at my foibles
As I relinquish a measure of dignity.

These days clothes are a problem
Models on the runway just aren’t my shape.
What’s in my closet spans years of styles
I can fashion new looks as things slowly wear out
Survival of the fittest dictates my wardrobe.

Today I live at the pace of now
Finding delight in the scenes out my window.
Accessing new worlds in my writing and reading
On my own magic carpet I travel afar.
I like the view from within my own skin.


Haiku: Winter Sleight-of-Hand

Fluffy snow feathers
Cover tree limbs and branches
Coral fans appear.



Haiku: Vintager’s Lament

How I long for Spring.
After days confined by ice
Want my jail door sprung.

Walking safe and free
I’ll smell every flower bud.
Ample time for that.


Haiku: New Harmonies

Black holes collide, chirp
Hungry robins search for food
Silent in the snow.


Haiku: Both/And

White lace graces trees
Early February morn
Contrasts summer green.


Haiku: Litmus test

How to be Grandma?
Though endowed with snow-white hair
Baking’s not my lot.

Grandkid’s faces beam
Some in scrapbooks, some on wall
Own no camera.

Once sent greeting cards
For significant events.
Birthday cards endure.

Just don’t measure up
Must not be in DNA
Then it came to me.

Always been like this.
My grandchildren know me well.
Who else could I be?