My Journal
My Poems

My Thoughts

My Poems


early morning . . .
a tree’s foliage bursts
into parakeets

mustard fields
a thimbleful of sun
on each blossom

cashmere scarf –
the smell of mothballs
in our kiss

wilting irises –
I turn up the volume
in an empty house

spring cleaning –
dusting the cobwebs
from my shadow

stitching the ends
of a cerulean sky. . .
darting swallows

longest night…
the taste of sea breeze
and her absence

the infant’s fist tightens
around a dream

early darkness –
the jagged flight of
a firefly

deep shadows…
a glow worm exhales
the Milky Way

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