I like lines in faces

Laugh lines drift off toward memories

of times with friends, fine wine, good talk,

friendly jokes,  tall stories.

Care lines cut the cheeks of a woman

who learned to stand on a dirty corner of life

and laugh .Tiny stripes twist out

like twigs on winter tree limbs.


I like winter tree limbs.. Nothing hidden,

sharp elbows twist, bend, crook here.

A wide curve skims past a branch

as another tree crowds in.

What decides which sprout wins the space?


A woman knows

which persons, moments, passions,

pressed the deep line deeper,

cut the tiny twigs.



Meditation If I can find a silent place Between my shards of stars I’ll wrap me up and rest. I’ll consider Granny’s garden How she hoed and raked the ground, Planted straight by strings and stakes In rows from North to South, Peas, cabbages and cucumbers, Potato eyes buried in the old of the moon, Four corn kernels in each covered hill, And, beside her country road, Two rows of yellow daisies. Then I’ll plant my soft leaved milkweed Criss-curved about my grotto, And watch each pinstriped caterpillar Wrap its secret inner core, Wait there in its cave of life − Trembling, Surprised, Unfolding wings.

You Are

You Are


the warm fire after a walk in the rain.

You are

the walk in the rain

the cloud clambering over the hills

the water twining softly over rocks

the sunshine following.

You are

the wind in the chimney

slow in the evening

the querulous calls of sleepy birds.

You are

the voice in my ear as I sleep

the morning kiss before pancakes

sweet honey on my tongue.

You are

Dark chocolate and red wine.