Sit quiet
in the madness
that abounds

The river rises
and falls
but never quits

The mountains are
testament to the wisdom
of enduring

A statement
of staying true
to the soul

They ,too,
have been surrounded
by mist

and survived it
never becoming one
with it

true harmony
allows for survival
of the self








Whose fault is it?
We’ve been cheated
by the seasons,

Felt the splash
beneath our feet when it rained
on our parade,

Mourned the early bloom
when a killing frost

We’ve been swindled
and duped, kept out,
cooped up,

But we’ve always
regrouped. So who
would have guessed

that precious ball of fur
would turn into such a beast?
They told us he’d stay small.

estrela mountain dog

Also known as the Cao da Serra de Estrela, the Estrela Mountain Dog is a large breed native to the Estrela Mountains in Portugal. This breed has been used to guard homesteads and herds for centuries and, because of its size, it is a formidable opponent to even large predators. (I’m happy to say the poem was inspired by the pictures and not personal




A New Day Blooming

Hints of pink kiss the horizon,
Dawn tiptoes across the shadowed land,
She knows that a slow blossoming
is not a waste of time.

A flourish heralds the break of day.
Early birds burst into song… robins and
thrushes and those rascally blackbirds,
then come the bug eaters.

Wrens, black caps and chiff chaff –
poor vision in lowlight.
Glasses might help but the demand
for avian optometrists has not been met.

Every society has its bankers.
Under the guise of waiting for light
sparrows and  finches
appear on the scene,

Some freshly suited, others straggle in
ungroomed,  their valets obviously
on holiday.  They all
chime in.

The semi from the highway
contributes its rhythm, a missed gear
adds to the composition.
A dog barks, a door opens,

The scent of bacon and coffee brewing –
The kiss before the commute.
Morning begins in increments and over it all,
the sun.




“Big Wheel Keeps on Turning”

O! winter cold
your howling shivered
our bones

Your voice echoed
harshly with a frigid

You thieved the lovely rose
fallen to frost it suffered
death by ice

But, o! my sharp-
nailed one, Summer
has returned

The roses are in bloom
brilliantly daring
They, too, have pointy nails

Bend closely to them
nodding in the wind
and listen

to them whispering
where are the winter snows




Aspect and Extent

Back from the edge
of an expanding abyss,
miraculously potholes diminish,

Back to the lilacs
in bloom by the door;
back to summer’s sweet scent,

The senses rebound,
a wondrous break
from the total anarchy of dark,

Sun soft-talks the binds
of calendar and clock;
Breeze whisks the worries away.

Builders of dreams,
we shed our cocoons,
eager to try out new wings.

Architects all,
sandcastles abound;
Time is an intangible thing.