my neighbour's magnolia bursts pink joy
furiously into the street
the one I dug deep into dirt stubborn in its refusal
to bloom
or to die
nine Mays of hopes unrealized
(I place that much weight on spring beauty)
that I nearly walked right by the one blossom
one tulipy rose-coloured cup
in a sea of space between twig
that empty room awaiting its leafy annual guests
beauty jarring me into the reality
of this palm-sized miracle
that few (no one?) but me would care about

how like the gift of heart-kinship
that startles with unexpected colour
in that friend that appeared so suddenly
so out of place
filling a space that merely existed
but now shimmers with iridescent light
the brightness of joy to lighten and sharpen
and proclaim how I am not overlooked or alone


(May 2017)

​this page is so beautiful
soft white
untarnished
by the mess that is life
no dog-ears here
no eraser marks
​or scratched-out bits

just wide open room
for words that breathe life into the smoky-haze of noise and death all around
I wrap my Elsket scarf around my head and ears
     to shield me, to lead me
     to cause me to be in ways that whisper my 
     Belovedness
     like a distant tune heard by everyone
     that is somehow familiar, yet forgotten
     that pulls the corners of the mouth upward
     where lightness weighs more heavy than worry
     and joy permeates like moonlight on snow
     and creativity falls like confetti flakes released from grey sky blanket
     and love pours out in a hundred secret ways


Dec 30, 2016 - Elsket is one of several Norwegian words for love. I do not speak Norwegian, but my understanding of the term, is that is indicates the a very deep, intimate form of love, such as that expressed between spouses, or between a person and God.

"How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our life." #newyearsgoals #simplewisdom

My default compulsion is to check the
computer for any sense of connection and
seeing what the distant world is finding
joyful and noteworthy
But today I broke free and strapped on 
my boots, choosing to march solemnly toward
a forgotten love and the garden welcomed
me wholeheartedly as I pulled and gnawed
at the surface, massaging her tired muscles,
digging to remove the knotted masses of clay
and old roots and filling her anew with
lost plants wedged under lilies and 
tucked in hidden corners
Breathe, Garden! Breathe, me!
Welcome Sun and Rain and Birdsong to
keep company with this garden. And for now,
I stay here to find my community in Soil
and Weed and Insect and tweet about my work
completed, happy with heuchera joy
and pinks pleasure and hydrangea happiness

The squirrel chatters above my head
littering my papers with his house-
cleaning debris while the bird, whose
name I don't know (let's face it, 
I only know about 5) talks and 
talks to some unseen or otherwise mute
neighbour or maybe he's talking to 
himself
and slowly
oh so slowly
the angry words and rehearsed
confrontations I play over in my
mind momentarily become quieter,
like that far-away dog's barking or
the dishes clattering in that house
over there and things get quiet
enough for me, finally, to hear
the Breath of my breath

"You say you cannot 
Prison beauty in a word,
Ephemeral things are sacred
So you say. You are afraid
Of moulds; yet no one else
Can say it better.
Why not make moulds
Of lovely words
And pour the moment in?" - Doris Hedges

Love it. Love when I have no words, there are some out there waiting to be found.