The Way Forward
the spring green of the willow
the clear blue sky
with bits of wispy clouds
the white daytime half-moon

Photo by Author
A giant fir tree
stands strong and fierce
trunk trailing skyward
in a straight line
grounded into earth
limbs flying in the wind
but trunk stands steady
I felt that way once
Calendula
ray of sunlight
on a gloomy day
deep into the fall
you raise your head
Old woman
body sags
eyes dull
hearing wavers
songs all sung
slipping off to sleep

Photo by Cedric Fox on Unsplash
If I lived in a world
where I didn't know
a willow tree as a willow tree
or sunflower as a sunflower
but instead
I wandered outside last night
to check on our little world
The fog was misting softly
and round and round it swirled
When I awoke this morning
I heard the wild winds of fall
Cheyenne
not much of a morning girl
She hides away under a blanket
or deep in her clam-shell bed
a gentle soul biding her time
But a warm afternoon

NaNoWriMo
the opportunity
to write a novel
with the energy of many
I begin
it's to be a memoir
my first
Photo by Rick Medlen on Unsplash
that moment
when the sun peeks
over the horizon
meeting the night air
colors move
in an unending
symphony
painting the world
with changing light
awakening the daylight
Every morning, I curl up on a big red overstuffed sofa and drink my morning latte'. I look out the window at the flowers and the trees beyond. These days this is my view through one of the bay windows. This morning a pair of hummingbirds were making their way through the garden. They've been here for a while now, enjoying the fruits of my labor. Their favorite flower is the crocosmia, the burst of red in the image.
It seems I’ve been bridging worlds much of my life in one way or another. The writings here are a kind of bridge with the early writings starting in 2007 with articles aimed at Gardening and Aquaponics. I continued to garden but my writing moved more toward Wisdom or Life Lessons and Wellness. After my son’s death by suicide in 2016, Poetry became a big piece of my world as I tried to make sense of the tragedy of his death.
These days my writing is varied. I participate in two weekly writing groups, one where we write to prompts and the other where we journey and then write about what we've learned. Much of this is under
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