Thursday, January 19, 2023


Today is for relighting banked flames, reviving gone dreams, taking stagnant feels and rousing them anew. Yesterday made the same wish, but body and soul were low on strength and drive; healing is draining business. Now remains out of balance—too little time, too much pain—still, now also sings of things I used to enjoy doing (and of different ways of doing them with love and will).

to remind hurt flesh
wild spirits can heal

 - someone asked if I could turn this Instagram post’s caption into prose poetry. So, I made it a haibun. I enjoyed it so much, that I will probably do it again… and again.

- for Poets and Storytellers United--Friday Writings #60: The Visitor.

Thursday, January 5, 2023

Under Winter’s Shroud

not-quite Journaling, 48

let me be the heart
of your twilight, the darkness
balancing the light

12/21/2022: I usually rise with the sun on the Winter Solstice, but I went to bed exhausted (from physical therapy) and didn’t wake up until almost 10am. But I (and a dry gloriosa daisy I brought inside in the summer) got to soak some sun bliss after breakfast.


When gloom and chill fill
skies and flesh and bones,
I rejoice in all the warmth
a sunny picture can hold.

12/23/2022: It’s raining cats and dogs and probably rabid raccoons. The sun hasn’t been out since the Winter Solstice, and I’m missing it. So, do send some sun-warmth my way (artificial light shining on my cactus corner just isn’t cutting it).


12/24/2022: In case the cold gets so deep into your bones that you start forgetting that spring is just a few months in the blooming (and yes, by “you” I also mean “me”). 🥶 🌱


12/28/2022: Late last summer, while my flesh and bones and I were in a ridiculous amount of pain, my Piano Man got me a plant to cheer me up. It was the only plant with a lot of healthy-looking blooms and berries. The explosion of yellow blossoms and crimson berries made my day. The plant (St. John’s wort) bloomed all the way until the end of September. I pruned it and brought it into the house in October. Today, it has a single bloom that looks like a tiny sun bedecking my living room. I can’t look at it without grinning like the happiest of all lunatics. 😁


My 2022 in one American Sentence. Now, to live (and write) 2023…

- for Poets and Storytellers United--Friday Writings #58: Reclaim, Rekindle, Rebirth.