The day after Valentine’s Day one bouquet of roses rises tall on my kitchen counter (the long-stems). The shorter-stems reside on a refrigerator shelf, extending their life (shelf life?) and making me glad everytime I open the refrigerator door.
In a workshop on sacred space, I drew a rainbow vortex, holding 4-6 crayons in my hand at a time. I loved that part. Then, looking at my crayon drawing, I wrote this letter to the rainbow vortex. Later I cut the vortex into a spiral and pasted it into my journal, folding in switchbacks…
I fingered the treasures in my pocket as I strolled to the tree that hovered over the creek. It had no soil under it. Roots dangled through the air, then plunged straight and deep into rushing water. Fish swam between roots. With soil between roots the tree had sheltered a rabbit burrow, not swimming fish….
When I was growing up we still put up hay by hand, rode horses, milked cows, butchered, gardened and put up our own food, and sewed up ruptured hogs. But, most of all, when I was growing up the land nurtured me as a dreamer. The land raised me as a poet and writer. I…
February is here, that month of hearts burning to burnish romantic love relationships. What if February became a month celebrating all types of love? Why not send Valentine’s cards to everyone, not just our sweetie, as we used to do in grade school? Ernest Dempsey, a.k.a. Karim Khan, our Man from Pakistan, sent me the…
Mother died at 90 last May Day. It seems like an ocean of time and then, hardly any time at all. You can read more about my mother on the “Sightlines” portion of this site on the Sweet Little Dove page including: * Ruth Thompson Life Story * Mother’s Memorial Service And the poems: *Under…
“Don’t be afraid to put your heart in the palm of your hands and shake the hands of your fellow human beings.” –Daniel Holland