•October 16, 2012 • Leave a Comment

when he is near or far

touching me or not

it does not matter anymore

I feel and see (if such is possible)

a pale white light

sheer strands thickening toward the center

darkening to gold

a web

that softly binds my soul

iridescent night or day

shimmering with magic possibility

that is love I think defined


lemon thyme

•October 4, 2012 • Leave a Comment

lemon thyme cascading down

over the rim of the red clay pot

shining bright in the afternoon light

as I approach with sharp scissors

thinking all the while how soon to be divine

the little green citrus-flavored bits

sprinkled with parmesan over my farfalle pasta

in the garden

•October 4, 2012 • Leave a Comment


upon the greek oregano

glistening beneath the lamplight


rosemary and lavender and a cat

his white stockinged feet

ensconced in the damp splendour

of dewy greens

a sprig of lavender

•September 29, 2012 • Leave a Comment

a sprig of lavender

from the garden he pulled

purple blooms glowing faintly

in afternoon light

a floral scent and mysterious flavor

to add to his jasmine rice

steamed and glistening with salted butter

flowers and eggs

•September 28, 2012 • Leave a Comment

a dinner

at night while rain pours

droplets sparkle upon power lines

and in puddles in the street below

inside the kitchen

we prepare to sit for dinner

a salad with flowers and eggs

a simple delight

a quiet moment to remember

as most of the moments are

dark lady

•September 24, 2012 • 1 Comment

she lay on the sand

bare and brown

sides gently heaving

as she slept

cradled in the rays of the sun

long dark lashes

fanned smooth cheeks

I knew if I knelt close enough

the smell of fresh fish

the effervescent remains

of the seal’s rich lunch

would engulf us both

but I remained where I was

on a neighboring dune

not wishing to disturb

the dark lady’s dreams

of swimming in the deep



•September 20, 2012 • Leave a Comment

with the onset of this cool night

memories of a cashmere shawl emerge

black and tan in color

soft like silk of course

a beautiful work of art

that unfortunately a horde of moths devoured

but before they ate their fill

I wore it that one last time

still damp after a bath

wrapped in its warmth

as that fellow of mine

massaged my neck and remarked

this cloth in that color against your skin

makes you look like a forest fawn

so soft so sweet so guileless but

he added as he reached beneath the shawl

I do know you otherwise

yes that night may have been the night

the moths were able to indulge themselves