“Arthur blinked at the screens and felt he was missing something important. Suddenly he realized what it was.”

In Arthur’s case he was thinking about tea, but in most of our lives I think what we find we’re missing the most is love.  This is a sonnet I wrote to commemorate the renewal of vows between two very good friends of mine.  They had asked that people stand up and speak about their relationship, and in fear that people wouldn’t…I wrote this to recite:


Beth and Daniel

We are here today to celebrate

the second stating of their vows

Let us join together to commemorate

Daniel and Beth’s renewal now.


Fifteen years have hence past

Since they first walked down the aisle

Their union the first and last.

Of their love there’s no denial


Oh, but what Daniel didn’t know

Fifteen long years ago

of Beth’s particular quid pro quo

with Puppies and Kitties their home they would outgrow


But even with the animals galore, Daniel’s love is STILL there

So let’s give a big hooooray!!! for a never ending love affair


“This must be Thursday”

“This must be Thursday,’ said Arthur to himself, sinking low over his beer. ‘I never could get the hang of Thursdays.” – Douglas Adams

This is the beginning of a story that I will probably never use, however the first part of the story – the descriptive beginning I love, just not where the story is actually going.  It was part of a writing assignment.  “Write the opening to a story or play about a character who is about to go over the edge.  Introduce another character who is the perfect antagonist to do the pushing.”


The Sangre de Cristo

The sun was setting on the Sangre de Cristo casting a fiery red glow on the mountains, turning the valleys into rivers of blood flowing down from the peaks.  The sky in the east having already succumbed and given its last breath to the night.  The safety of daylight already surrendering to the sounds of night, the yip-howls of the coyotes filling the night air, and so with the ebbing of light comes the influx of the degenerates whose cat-calls and yells fill the night air like the coyotes calling and answering in the distance.  Every night has been the same for the last 3 weeks, walking to my car after work I catch my disfigured likeness in the cracked reflection of my driver’s side window, lift my hand to the greenish yellow bruise across the top of my cheek that I was only just able to touch without cringing.  I got the phone call from Jules down at the courthouse, Jimmy was released today.  I can almost feel him circling me now as I fumble for my keys and unlock the car, as a coyote howls in the distance circling his prey.  I feel in my purse for the preloaded bit of security, and feel that it’s still there the weight heavy against my hand.  I never thought to own a gun, but then I had never thought that I’d be in a position to need a gun.

I should have taken Jules up on her offer to stay the night, but during the light of day I wasn’t as terrified of Jimmy coming after me.  With the bright desert sun shining down and chasing off my fears, I didn’t want to impose on her.  As I come to the red light, the ambient light of the street lamps shining in my car window, I feel in my purse again for my little bit of security stashed safely away and feel the weight as I take a deep breath.  The weight sturdy enough to scare away the trembling of my hands.  Surely he won’t come after me….tonight.

“Don’t Panic.”

For me, panic is when I can’t get outdoors for long periods of time.  I’ve gone back to school after…let’s just say a prolonged absence from school and the majority of my classes are online.  So, my life consists of work (on a computer connected to the internet), and school (on a computer, connected to the internet).  I do travel for work quite a lot, but the majority of my life seems to consist of a computer connected to the internet.  So, when I need a break, when I need to get away, I crave the outdoors.  Somewhere I can unplug, unwind, and just slow down, with the stars shining down on me as I swing quite contentedly, cocooned in my hammock and sleeping bag.

Some of my favorite poets speak of the outdoors so lovingly

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud
By William Wordsworth

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

The Path Through the Woods – an original poem

It’s the solitude I long for
I long to feel the wind against my cheeks
I long to hear the small voices that whisper through the leaves
I long to feel the dirt beneath my feet

It’s the solitude I long for
the twilight full of the songs of the creatures of the night
the chatter amongst the pups answering their mothers’ calls
the small voices in the night hailing each other

It’s the solitude I long for
at daylights inception the morning birds I long to hear
the dew glistening on the grass
the awakening with a song

It’s the solitude I long for
a place where thoughts unfettered
are allowed to follow their own paths

It’s the solitude I long for, that solitary path through the woods

The Way – an original Haiku

The Way is calling

Whispers in the night

urging my thirsty feet forth