Old Scar. New Ink.

Japanese Eggplant

Fresh from MY GARDEN and immediately cooked up into a breaded delicious feast!

Happy Burial Day

A wisp of being up in the ether
Makes its way down and down
Settling in the husk of a robin’s egg
Or  the passing scent of tobacco
Tickling the fondest places in a lonesome heart
Until the sickness has passed
And the long year is over

One thousand things

Your fingers touched

So long ago

And still, I clutched

At them, F

                   a

                   l

                   l

                   i

                   n

                   g

Through my fingers

Like memory

Then the day came
When the earth stilled
Herself for me
And flowers bloomed
For my picking
To place beside
Our happy bed
Where the sweet smell
Of our two lives
Mingled with them

Unfinished

Baptized in Fear

So long ago

When breath began

In a bird-like breast

Now.  She smells the flood

Before she sees

And her fingers stretch

To catch the current

She becomes so small

An infant heartbeat

In the great mother

The homecoming child

Drifting along

On a white-winged sea

Diana’s returned

Family Reunion

Good times.