finding a backbone

Leaning into you

your hand travels down my spine

strengthens my resolve


After a grey day

the clouds parted to reveal

faint dustings of stars

Venus hanging just below

the slender curve of the moon

Pondering risks and sacrifice

Some people think storms are terrifying-

the watery fists

pounding against the window,

the booming bass rumbles

suddenly shaking the floor.


I wanted to walk with you

in the storm last night–

marvel in the sweeping greyness

as the front moved through,

the power of the lightning illuminating

in flashes and crackles,

the wet coldness

sinking layers beneath sodden clothing,

feel rain against my skin.


But instead, this morning

I slipped out of bed alone to watch

the quiet aftermath of water

trickling softly along the edges of the street,

puddling, waiting just a moment,

before slipping into grated drains

whisking it all away.


rain tapping windows

tree limbs’ shadows on the wall

your breath down my spine

silver and gold

bare shoulder bathed

in the waning golden sunlight

you turn towards me


I’m blinded by the

sun, your smile, as my face tips

upward for a kiss


your arm anchoring

me to you, rocking on waves

of each sleeping breath


eyelashes casting

lengthy shadows across your

cheek, all tips painted

silver from the gibbous moon

hanging in our sky tonight

Inappropriate humor

a faint twitch wryly

lifts the corner of your mouth

struggle to not smile

Tanka for today

A plethora of

Rain drops racing down the panes

Of every window

We sit inside motionless

Life waiting to move again


a flock of starlings

thickly blankets brown, dried grasses

searching for spring snacks

What you put on your plate

I brought you

freshly baked cookies,

again, when I saw you,

and you took them.

Thanked me.




you pushed me away

with silence and

sparse words

magnified each time

by the number of minutes

between text messages,

every hour stating

more definitively

that you can manage

alone without me.


I’m just cookies

straight from the bag,

devoured on the spot.

Empty calories,

not worth the trade-off

of the other choices you picked

to fill up your plate.


Suggestion for a prompt from a friend…write about love and the subject line of the third junk mail in your inbox. :-). It was “stop filling your plate with empty calories’.

onion snow

white blanketed ground

sun haloed in fogginess

six budding crocus

one robin leaves footprints, looks

quizzically at the snow

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