Where would I wish to go?
And who might do the carrying?
If carried by a cloud,
wherever the wind blew-
Watching shadows float
across the landscape below
Not simply reclining, but
looking through binoculars
Searching the trees, flowers,
and people below in hopes
of greater understanding
If carried by a horse-
Sitting tall, laughing
As my hair flows behind me
Holding tight to the reins
Exploring places only
The horse knows how to find
Admiring hidden
landscapes, amazed.
I’d have so much to learn.
As with any trip,
It would eventually
come to an end
And I would free
fall, confident
You’d catch me
and carry me home
Tag: imagination
From Gray to Baby
Dashes, dots, light
Lines, spaces, patterns
Letters, numbers, sounds
All Building blocks for
endless foundations able
to reveal the unseen
Logic and reason may
not be our first thought
upon hearing a Symphony
Yet, they are present
in each phrase
We may not consider
the patterns of numbers
and letters needed to
fly an airplane
Yet, without them
We would never witness
the majestic layers of
a sunset above the clouds
Burnt orange
Bright yellow
Blues ranging
from gray to baby
I’m beginning
to understand
There are many things
I may never understand
Shifting Senses
When atmospheric conditions
make it nearly impossible
to discern who is moving
And who is standing still
An out-of-balance feeling
quickly comes and goes
Offering no answers to
the resulting questions
Am I moving forward?
Am I standing still?
What about you?
Where are we headed?
I can’t feel the Earth moving
Yet, it is in constant motion
The clouds are floating
Yet, when layered just right
in front of the sun
It is the sun I see shifting
Do the answers matter?
Or simply the sense of wonder
which precedes the questions
Breathless
Stretched across the sky
A swimmer, graceful and strong
Head tilted to one side
One arm stretched out in front
The other by her side, mid stroke
Gliding across the blue
Legs stretched out behind
feet gently kicking-
Every muscle engaged
Strange, the thought of
swimming across the sky
instead of the ocean
Arms reaching for
a pink moon, instead
of the sandy shore
Images stretched across
a blue canvas-Breathless-
Clouds, swimmer, and observer
Exciting News!
I’m happy to share my poetry collection, The Space Between Clouds, is now available!
A Quiet Notion
Little feet and legs move
Slower…slower…slower
Each step, exaggerated
A game of pretend
The truth inadvertently
revealed, in a mischievous smile
Two tiny hands carry
a glass bowl, carefully
Until, at long last, reaching
A stronger, older set of
hands, patiently waiting
Hands, ready to receive
Willing to share
the weight for
as long as needed
I think there is
a lesson within
this pretending
Carried, offered, received, reclaimed
What feels heavy in
Your hands, my hands,
Your heart, my heart
May feel lighter in the
and heart of another-
The opposite is also true
A quiet notion nudging
us toward a readiness to
cheerfully share the weight
Simply Sunday
Please enjoy the following preview from my upcoming poetry collection, The Space Between Clouds, available March 15, 2026!
DON’T LISTEN
Soft, wispy feathers
graced the sky today
Beautiful against the blue-
I quietly asked,
Where did you come from?
A lovely swan
gliding on the water
The wings of an angel
offering comfort-
All these lovely thoughts
But then…that voice
What is wrong with you?
Those are just clouds
with scientific names
Perhaps you should
do some research…
Humph-no, thank you!
I’ll keep looking
for soft, wispy
feathers, floating
against the blue
Graceful Drifting
Driving away, I saw you
in my rearview mirror.
I wanted to keep looking,
to appreciate and study.
But that was not possible.
Watching the road and all.
So, I smiled, taking note
of your blue feathers
and gentle waves.
Your perfect placement
in the afternoon sky.
I would do my best
to remember, making sure
my eyes remained on the road.
Until I changed direction
and your position shifted.
Gracefully, you drifted,
from behind me,
to be beside me, and finally
directly in front of me.
I followed you all
The Way Home- Grateful
Simply Sunday
Mysteries
A beginning so strange,
so pure and innocent.
A sweet baby
lying on its back
feet up in the air
a perfect button nose
evident in its profile-
A picture that changes
so quickly, it is like
a stretched-out cloud
that holds its shape
only until the next
breeze blows by.
Perhaps it was
a cloud I saw,
and not a baby.
Both are strange,
pure, and innocent.
And if a cloud can remind me
of a precious baby, well,
Therein lies another mystery.
Interesting Companions
We walk down the sidewalk.
Our shadows lead the way.
This time, we walk with our shoes on.
Not my preference,
But the cement is hot
from the midday sun.
It would surely burn
your little feet.
Strange, how your shadow
makes you look older-
Mine only makes me look taller.
Interesting companions, our shadows.
They seem to listen as you chatter.
Your sweet voice echoes against
the neighbor’s fence.
Do you see your shadow? I ask.
But you keep walking
and chattering and laughing.
Oh, to be innocent again,
paying no attention to those shadows.
Your only concern?
Walking, chattering, and laughing
in the bright summer sun.
Piano Girl 