Tag: Nature


Raw Materials

Every tree in the orchard dangles ripely, unjustly dripping luscious fruit the size of four hands. The imposter sits, supremely still, in the midst of it all and gazes upon the garden scene. The kale is full to overflowing; the carrots are digging a well for themselves; the rabbits have compounded labor for a new wire fence and the imposter gazes down at her hands. These hands? Only two hands. What’s the … Read More Raw Materials



Look out the window sometime; with the bold winds dancing throughthe Banyan trees it’s pretty in a lanced way, a little bodega in the neighborhood-way. From the balcony, I can hear gentle laughter of soccer boys and soccer girls kicking dogwood trees instead of soccer balls. Damn, if it doesn’t get me every time. If I were older, I would have fled the sceneand left the dimes and dollars for a … Read More Balanced


Blue Jays

Tough. (I don’t feel tough though, my tongue is on the gritty floor and covered in dirt anddebris from a weekend of debauchery. I don’t feel anything other than tired.) I’m told the blue jays mate even when they’re dying, as if evolution could not hold a reverent bow for the last breath of an angry bird. Supposedly that attitude was in the contract I signed a year ago, though the … Read More Blue Jays


Tree Hugger

I don’t belong in the concrete world. It’s too hot for my feet too electric for my soul. When they ask me what I do     I say I count the leaves     on any given tree         and try not to cry too loudly  as I contemplate the complexity.


Here I Am

All around me are circles flowers bird whistles the breeze is slow and yielding my skin is soft the air warm. In my sweater I am whole unseeking existence the fire that warms me is my own and long has gone unnoticed.


Mountain Grows Taller

  As Earth groans and shivers I observe Mountain grow taller; the childbearing summit, too many spines to count in a single lifetime, she sees me. So small below. She gathers Wind and bids him go to me. He whistles through my hair, disrupting cyclical thoughts, for a spell, with gusts of play, then rises and rejoins her. She invites Sunlight in for tea … Read More Mountain Grows Taller

Let’s Be Soldiers

Perhaps Sunday will be a day of poetry. It certainly is a fine day to curl up in the aesthetic recesses of one’s own mind, jittery from intake of coffee and cozy from an outfit made of sweaters.   Who might I be, If we were playing soldiers? Well, let me tell you; I’d be the one with rosy cheeks, An affinity for bubblegum … Read More Let’s Be Soldiers