Suddenly...

The light streams through, something bright, something new.

The air whispers in, something sweet, something true.

The yellow, the green, the sheen, with golden hue.

The nights twinkle and fade- day winds back into blue.

The excitement of looking forward and behind...together...its you.

The time space leaves.

There is time for times.

There is space for spaces.

There is room for rooms.

There are leaves to leave.

There are figures to figure,

There are pieces to peace.

what comes from above?

I watched the sky above

Waiting for clouds to send anything but love.

I looked up waiting to fail

Waiting for the hail...

The darkness of clouds, the billow, the roll

Waiting and watching for a storm that never would toll

I watched the sky above

Waiting for mountains of love

I looked up beaming with success

Waiting for....

The sunshine, the pop, the fizzle

Waiting and watching for a glow and no drizzle.

But the sky doesn’t produce love, success or failure.

No matter the season, all the sky can produce is weather.

haunted

Ghosts of silver and shine

Ghosts of oak and pine

Gracious ghosts of what I thought was mine.

Fall

“The land is settling into an easy evening, and into that season where everything that has risen up prepares to fade and fall, this death blanketing last year’s death.  The land is at ease with the idea of mortality.  But the sky...cumulonimbus clouds are stacked and banked to the stratosphere, and the lowering sun has bronzed and brassed and blushed them.  These are clouds that make you long for wings.  
-Michael Perry, author, Wisconsin-ite, father, nurse

Oceans between

We are standing with an ocean in between

Even when you can’t see me I’ll be waving.

The season will change

Edges of light.

Torn, ripped, strands of light bending through

Edges of night.

Bold, heavy, hands of night deep and blue

Somehow the light is shining true.

Somehow spring is showing through.

age

"The AGE of a woman doesn't mean a thing. The best tunes are played on the oldest fiddles."

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

Unexpected

A chance for hearts to mend

A chance that wasn’t planned.

A chance to sit and laugh

A chance listen and gasp.

Someone I didn’t know

Somehow a friend began to show.

Wander lust

Wander lust: a strong desire for or impulse to wander or travel and explore the world. The term originates from the German words wandern (to hike) and Lust (desire). The term wandern, frequently misused as a false friend, does in fact not mean "to wander", but "to hike." Placing the two words together, translated: "enjoyment of hiking", although it is commonly described as an enjoyment of strolling, roaming about or wandering.

Will you come?

There is a place where black-top ends

Where hills can roll and clouds descend.

There is a place where sounds relax

Where warmth is found and laughter passed.

There is a place to hide from wind

Where friends arrive and smiles begin.

There is a place where time can wade
Where fear can melt and daylight fade.

What are the colors of pain? Hopelessness? Grief?

In trying to understand my life lived in dirty nurse scrubs in an ICU....I write a lot.  There are so many things to say and not many places to say them....as in most careers a lot happens we just don't say.  Here is my way of trying to describe the colors of pain, hopelessness, and grief.  

Old.

Cold.

Turning white.

Quiet.

Diet.

Turning yellow.

Despair.

Repair.

Turning red.

Sleep.

Repeat.

Turning, twisting, raging, blue.

Task.

Mask.

Turning around.

My favorite poet

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins
And there the grass grows soft and white
And there the sun burns crimson bright
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow
And watch where the chalk white arrows go
To the place where the side walk ends

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow
And we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go
For the children, they mark and the children they know
The place where the side-walk ends.
                                   -Shel Silverstein

Walk me under summer 's sun.
Talk me into courage over fear.
Take me safely inside.
Walk me through, there are so many ways I depend on you.

Today

Maybe it’s the sweet, soft pink of winter

Or the light, pearl grey of hope.

Or the dark, cool green of pine.

But today I wish you were mine.

Winding Light

Light

Sliding, slipping, and skipping through leaves of my trees

It casts shadows I haven’t send for a year-they appear to tell me winter is near

Its light digs deep and dark along the backyard; places where the sun used to spill everywhere

I watch green, yellow, and red.

As each falls I turn my head, because I have heard it said, “snow is up ahead.”

Gliding shafts of summer sun chilled by earth’s early morning dew

Heat grown still on shots of cold, it is the only to hear instructions of when and how…

The light is changing and my mind is rearranging

Winding around the oak, pine, and spruce

Waiting for what only the purest light can produce:

the deepening shadows,

the glowing afternoon,

and the lingering moon.

Sometimes

Sometimes in hard times I need a smile

Sometimes in hard times I want you

Sometimes in hard times I want more

Sometimes in hard times I don’t see truth

Sometimes in hard times I don’t need anyone

Sometimes in hard times I see glory

Sometimes in hard times I see pain

Sometimes in hard times I seek honor

Sometimes in hard times I hide

Sometimes in hard times I need truth

Sometimes in hard times I come away changed

Sometimes in hard times I want something better

Sometimes in hard times the grass is greener far away

Sometimes in hard times it seems that is all life is…

FarFar

How do you describe love? Admiration? Trust? And respect for someone you’ve lost? What do you say when words don’t run deep enough? And how do you thank someone who has already left? I guess in my case you use someone else’s words.  Henry D. Thoreau once said, “How vain it is to sit down to write when you have not stood up to live.” How fortunate in my life I had an example of not only how to sit and write, but mostly how to STAND UP and live? 

hhmmmm?

I may not see with my eyes.

I may not hear with my ears.

I may not smell with my nose.

I may whisper instead of yell.

I may hide instead of being seen.

I may lie down instead of standing.

I’m a nut.

I’m a child.

I’m a -constantly changing my mind.

I am lost.

I am selfish.

I am fearful.

I write.

I dream.

I love.......................................................................................you.

icy toes

The light lingers and waits on icy toes.

It whispers against the cold,

Stifling sniffles on its nose.

It isn’t afraid of getting too old.