I like people who are like covered bridges,
sturdy and solid as houses, peaceful, still,
upright and bridging wide gulfs.
They take the high road. Their troubles wash away,
like floodwaters diverted into channels
fringed with loosestrife and cattails. Continue reading
yellow dots of bees
broken clouds, sewn with sun
wildflower-blue field Continue reading
Fields of daisies bloom
between forest and highway,
nodding sunny faces,
in the threshold
between earth and sky. Continue reading
Firework flower,
raspberry red,
scented like sage,
holds up its head. Continue reading
The bee alights on Sedum
asks why, oh, why did I weed ’em?
A clover
stopover
is needed, but I don’t heed ‘im. Continue reading
A garden witch
knows when to weed,
when to deadhead.
Lets some things reseed.
Pulls quackgrass,
curly dock, carpet weed,
crab grass. Makes wishes Continue reading
Thanks to Carol Varsalona who sent me dreams, hopes and fairy dust. Continue reading
Freed,
treed,
high as a bird,
like a rising song,
with a need to climb
ever higher,
a girl can believe,
can succeed,
can belong. Continue reading
Thanks to Jone for her amazing poem and photograph that arrived on a lovely plaque:
summer days
families gather
for sunset Continue reading
Rippled pond,
dew-strung lawn.
Yawning moon
welcomes dawn. Continue reading
Friendly Fairy Tales 