Humble Hush. June 12, 2015.

Before bed I ask – your pain ease, your breath normal, your rest restorative. – my child find peace in her heart while away. – tomorrow’s weather be kind. – more thunder charge the dog back over the fence. – peaceful moments for friends grieving missing loved ones. (A hard week for many.) – abundant…

June 1, 2013.

When I wrote this piece, I had returned to New York from my first visit to Virginia, less than one week home.  Torn in two, yet mending in ways I could not then label nor identify. Today, four years on, we are a “we”; not distanced by separation nor divorce, space nor inconvenience, fear nor…

Destination. May 26, 2015

Heading north this morning. I try not to say “heading home”; leaving here is leaving home, and so is leaving there.   I come home to both places.  A life not divided but widened by space and time, and the exciting horizon of possibilities for all of us.   #charlottesville #amtrak #alwaysheadinghome

Moth. [NaPoWriMo 2017] 24 April 2014, journal.

Midnight sweeps a quiet exhale adieu the gentle vale drops mist across the moon kissing shoulders they turn away seamless pivot and undulation  peace, deep under the stars. The pause and kick reset of the old refrigerator familiar mechanism, hum a sentry centered in the dark downstair snoring lightly, pointing ground birds to flight the…

On Over-Thinking. (Prosery.) NaPoWriMo 2017.

If overthinking is a combination of being intelligent but not having a hobby, or being over-caffeinated and not getting enough sleep, or being a little bit stressed and wearing your coping mechanisms so thin you can see through them like a bad alibi, or not socializing with your friends who distract and lift you positively,…

Astral Astray. (NaPoWriMo. 2017) 

Listen close for the stars above have such good things to tell you. Listen honestly, into the twilight let your eardrum lean hard into the sky to hear the song being written just for you. High above the embrace of hearth, of more import than daily distraction, high-hanging only for you lofty strung lightnotes of …

NaPoWriMo. On This Day. (Prosery. 8 April, 2014)

This life? This blustery calm circus of vibrant color and deepest freewheeling emotion? This wild Bossa Nova in 3-6-5 tempos of random kindness and distempered change punctuated by groaner punchlines whose menus never serve the same fare twice? This life where invisible wisdoms and sweeping awkward gestures of sweetest affection hold our hearts in most…

Winter Blanket. March 18, 2013. [Poem]

  It is a falling-asleep sound snow turning unheard to blustery icy tiny cannonballs against the panes separated by damask curtains of black and white we go about our evening alterations one to blanket one blanketed both to rest a spell one to melt one to manifest desires and epiphanies in tomorrow’s light. DJD 2013

Wishing. (The last one I had.)

All I ever asked for [sitting in a darkened car alone on a night nearing Christmas 2012, dreading – yet, again – being the only single adult family member, the only divorced person, the only single Mama – and crying like I have never cried before] was this: Whoever is listening, and I’ve been told…

Salt Breathing. [Loose poem]

Old stomping ground. Exhale Hill, as it is known by those of us who move away from that wide open big water and miniscule cliffside life. water methodists and whalers yachtsmen gossips artists the faithful and the bedhoppers claythrowers gemworkers taverners dutiful counselors It all seems so endless when you are there, going about the…

Fireside Chat. Coffeeshop Visit.

​Dear loud nasal-voiced woman sitting over my left shoulder, You need to stop talking.  Please. We three writers sitting quietly by the fireplace are cringing and wincing, shooting each other rolling-eyes about your “how annoying boss, Bob” and how late meeting invites were ignored.  The rapid-fire banality of your workplace drama and gossip–Diana is a…

How it Began. Feb 2, 2013.

​Pajamas under my overalls, I drive from bank to bank getting together oil money. It’s complicated but it is there. There is gratitude beneath my frustration at the cold. Yet the only thing I can think of, for some reason, is all my friends who have children growing up – for a variety of reasons…