I walk the same path each day

From house to woods and back again

I marvel at spiders and their way

Of resting on air while dinner flies in

They wift they waft like dandelion seeds

Any landing spot is fair

No steady hearth; the simplest needs

A spider’s home is anywhere.


If you live

I haven’t given up yet

in fact I never shall

I will keep my hope

hold to my faith

know my heart beats

for a reason and purpose

and trust my soul

to lead me to those

who need me

and to those

I need.

Many wait upon my path

I do my best to keep moving.

And if I cry

I will think of it as a cleansing

releasing that which i don’t need;

and when I laugh

think of it as a blessing

gathering that which fills me;

and as i breathe

I will think of it as a prayer

of love for this earthen body;

and when i sleep

I know the peace of the divine

Will flow through me.

And when I sleep the last

I will become the peace of the divine

Uninterrupted, Unfiltered, Uncontained.


Warm December night
One brave frog sings for life’s joy
Listener’s heart rests


Anything born

has an emergence

from the great being

into a seeming separation.

Ever after

these multitudes of forms

seek to merge

through love if they are lucky

hate if they are desperate

back into the oneness.

The great emergency in human life

is in the feeling

of isolation,

the urgency

to re-merge

to consume or be consumed…

And of course, the end, the very end,

ends the feeling of


as these forms

(who were never separate)

merge gracefully

once again

into the all.



How do you describe heartache

with words?

the steady burning at the center of the chest

like a swarm of bees

kicked out of a hive

that became too full.

the humming mobile mass waits

as scouts fly away

looking for a new home –

all missing the familiar combs

the dark brood boxes

the warm known neighbors

a safe night’s sleep.

No new home looks as good.

a mass of patient upheaval

hanging from a strange limb

crawling around the sweet brave queen

who led them here

and now waits for guidance.




future unknown

her faith and patience,

the only hope for this body’s life.

and then comes darkness

the ache cannot be ignored now

and the cold is harsher

nowhere to fly

no distractions

no hopeful view

no purpose but to wait –

and stay warm –

till morn

the buzzing incessantly loud

a painful immobile moving mass

surrounding such a small queen

homeless heart of life

burning wide-eyed heat into the night

determined to make it to the dawn

with these honey-laden wings

for it is all about

survival survival survival

swarming heart

Grand entrance

When the seed splits

beneath the earth

with unobserved courage,

it knows only to rise, rise,

patiently climb to the surface.

At first poke, it’s green head bashful,

breathing air for the first time,

an imperceptible cry of joy!

it’s mother, the earth itself,

stays low, shaded,

allowing the sunlight

to drench this little being

in its grand entrance.

When the mother bear

first pushes the cubs

out of the mouth of the cave

into the cool spring day

and they roll and play across the earth’s soft belly

she sits back, tired mother, in the shade

against the rocky entrance

letting the sun’s radiance dazzle newborn’s fur

playful, rolling center stage:

grand entrance.

When the human mother

cries out in pain and joy

and the baby’s head crowns,

contractions circling ever outward

like ripples in the water,

and the child becomes the center –

the mother the circumference.

Baby takes her first breath

entering this magical mystery

as the mother weeps

enshadowed by the radiance

of the miracle

of yet another grand entrance.


The miracle, ever-present, as long as life exists

Where the moon starts its rise

Have you ever seen

From where the moon starts to rise?

At the ends of the earth,

It’s the most silvery dell

In the crook of the farthest mountain

Where sunlight never fell.

Where unicorns romp

and satyrs play

and mermaids gay

swim with dolphin babes

Roses of blue

and irises of white

decorate this glade

dancing in silvery light

Snakes slither softly

past dandelion stalks

a silver moving labyrinth

beneath the white seeds tossed

They gather on the highest rock,

silver tongues divining the air –

calling down the drops of dew

sending up the gentle moon.

She leaves her home without complaint –

Her joy to release this magical light.

The earth’s pleasing transformation begins

as across the sky she slowly wends.

Foxes slink and deer stroll

raccoons eat and opossums roll

owls stay high, the mice stay low

as moonlight climbs through every knoll.

Even our common human feet

can’t help but dance when the magic entreats

All are transformed by the moon’s gentle path:

Beauty returns, innocence lasts.

But stubborn Zebras stand at the edge of the dawn

waiting for the promise of the sun

Sure enough the dew begins to fade

And the evening’s magic is lost to the day

(you know the zebras hate anything grey!)

The harsher light burns magic from the air

owls stay inside, foxes stay in their lairs

the smallest differences now seen as flaws

across the earth dancing feet pause.

Yet back in this most silvery dell

the moon has returned, it’s easy to tell:

Snakes slither down, unicorns rise

the mermaids dance, to the satyrs’ surprise.

and this being of peace, she rests and restores,

by the crook of the mount

on earth’s farthest shore

the roses blue, the irises white

too many to count!  They dance even more!

Still softly shining through her slumber,

like love unbound, giving gifts without number,

once again the old become young

in this place where ancient truths are sung

(by mermaids’ lips and snakes’ silver tongues).

Have you ever seen

where the moon starts its rise

leaving her home

to climb through the skies?


photo via shutterstock.com

About me

I am an author, teacher, and healer living in Durham, North Carolina, and I believe that living your truest life is a responsibility, not a frivolity. If we each work to discover our innermost guidance and follow it, our world will be more joyous. So, embrace your art, whatever it may be, for creativity is guided by the soul, and your creation may be another's inspiration. As a race of creators, rather than destroyers, perhaps we will come closer to the natural harmony of life on the planet.

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