slowly, spiraling drops of honey, crimson and amber
across the road and yard in bright ticker-tape style
warm on my back, crisp in my nose,
linger on speckled gourds in no particular hurry
remind us to draw slow down and cuddle in,
pull out scratchy sweaters and heat up cider
more than a season, a show or a verb,
a welcome friend with time to spare



every morning i tirelessly inventory
carefully counting, checking and memorizing
every single detail of your tiny yet growing
every lash, smile and scent carefully categorized
and then, just for good measure
i start at the top and record every inch
of you all over again
fervently willing my eyes, my heart,
to never, ever, forget a single minutia

the corners of this life are
bent and curled,
familiar and warm,
dog eared from time
and the affectionate handling
of moments I cherish most
and those I love to live
again and again

poetry best affords me the ability to catalog
all the days I never want to forget!



Too often the walls closing
in on me bear a familiar texture, marks
of my own making. I am all too aware
that I have built this cage, this confining
place. Yet, I feel so helpless to break
free from my own entanglements.
And so it is that my voice cries out, echoing
in anguish, resonating in pitch darkness,
drowning in the shadows of my own efforts.
Still I cry; I call out. For in all of my failings
I have not yet lost the hope that you hear,
and you answer. 


Drawing in
The verdant green grass
   aglow in an early sunrise 
The steady beat 
   of a faithful husband's heart
The scent of innocence 
  on a baby's newborn skin
Never let it be said 
  That life was wasted on me...


A slant of predawn light 
finds me nestled against
the tide of your chest
and there is nothing else
in this world