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 Belief, Trust & The Universe. [2014 journal entry]

In 2001, My very good friend taught me to “ask the Universe for what you want. Be specific, and ask that whatever it is, it is the best one for *you.*”  So, I did as I stepped out the door of The Institution* into a new chapter.  The crumbling Mercedes I’d been driving was barely…

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,…

Wrestles Still. (NaPoWriMo 2017)

The dairy farmer is out with his gun.   Three shots fired.  Almost too quick for a rifle.  Handgun, maybe? In the dark, three short explosive pops briefly echo through the hills.  I breathe quiet, waiting.  I imagine the spring calves scattering nervous wobbly-legged, and nightblind. Two minutes, three, five  no moo nor coyote howls. Yard…

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…

Pre-Launch. (Journal entry. 8 April 2015)

Him: “Looove your wild, plaid poncho!” He is shepherding his two wiggly small people into their way-too-big mini-van; one of whom, the smaller, has dashed out behind the car between our cars–the driver trying to back out of her space, thankfully aware of the dasher, who has been dragged back by his father to the…

NaPoWriMo. #2. (Poem)

You and I have grown past love the way a child grows past a sweater  or wears down the heels of rainy season rubber boots You and I have fished for love  the way a ‘coon paws murky ponds, half in/half out in shameless hunkered stupor  grasping at anything -anyone- to fill the void and…

Bluegrass Sunday.

My first Dailey & Vincent concert. During the long-distance part of the LDR, this event every March marked a later Sunday morning phone call, especially if The Guy ‘ran squad’ the night before.  We’d talk after the concert was over, late afternoon/early evening.  I’ve heard about it, never got to go. Until today. Only seven…

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

Green Room. March 18, 2014. [Poem]

There grows a restless punch.  My soul hankering anew, untried. Nagging, prodding, its hum the underlying pitch louder every morning.   It is the single, clear tuning note from which the orchestrations of life must swell and sing.  Courageous Departures, Outstanding Risks, Limitless Adventure – the score and soundtrack.   Wake the birds!  Wake the…

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…