dominos

a door opened to the past

bringing the scent of White Shoulders

and honeysuckle soap from lives lived a long time ago

memories sweet as perfume are all I keep

tucked into linen handkerchiefs edged in lace

I no longer open the door to sadness

or welcome grief when it comes to call

Instead, I send them off with stories of Grandmere’s buttermilk biscuits

Mamma’s stirrup cake covered in hot fudge

and laughter at the snap of dominos on the dining room table.

in-between time

Dusk lingers on this early Spring evening

before Easter vigil begins,

the time in-between life and death

and life again.

I cover the tender lettuces again

to save them from certain death.

Life is that way, isnt it?

A cycle of little deaths, after life, after death

and then the sun shines again

and we all raise our arms to the sky

giving thanks for today

before the in-between time

begins again.

April fool

we are all April fools

are we not

when chill winds blow upon the water

cascading spent blossoms of pink and white confetti

into the sunlit air

how could we have been so suckered in

by that impossibly warm day in March when the ground

was covered in violets and the bees were already

at their dance

April smiles wide in her buttercup gown

all sunshine and pheromones and sweet kissed skies

as we cover the tender lettuces

with old sheets and pillow cases

to soften her frosty night

one more time.

Writing Poetry

I finished reading your book

and now know its all been written

Plath and her marriage

Oliver’s wild geese


Shakespeare’s folly

Whitman and his grass

Chaucer’s bawds


But this I know

that I woke one morning

and knew my life was charmed

and when that door opened

I walked thru it

into a Child’s Garden of Verse

life is long

and its sonnets are evergreen

pb&js

they’re not the cottonwoods

or live oaks from my childhood

climbing trees and leafy hideaways

where library books

and pb&js were squirreled away

on long summer days


no they are trees unfamiliar to me

standing watch over my doorway

in the last home of my life

where I will spend long summer days

with books and pb&js

squirreled away in their shade