Posted in Leaves on the Poet Tree

The Timetraveler

like a lone hand
grasping for
drops of rain
are the memories
that grab me
out of the gray
and i am
back there
with you
your words
falling down
around me
like brown

Posted in Leaves on the Poet Tree

When I am Overwhelmed by the World

I wake to a morning of dismay,
caught up in the troubles of the day,
ensnared in what I cannot change
and a world that won’t rearrange
into a kinder, gentler place
where I’m just another runner in the human race.

Somehow I’ve learned that being painfully aware
is synonymous with showing that I really care
when I simply get caught up in the hoplessness
and the news of another’s tragic distress
which sucks the strength right out of my bones
and leaves me feeling so alone.

There seems to be a lesson here,
rising out of the worry and fear,
that perhaps there is a Voice I should be listening for,
Creator cares for this world so much more
than I ever can or will
and it is with that Love I seek to be filled.

Posted in Leaves on the Poet Tree

The Melancholic

perhaps it is the rain
the gray of the day
the fog across the window panes
the wet that keeps
the hounds at bay

the clap of refrain
where fingers stray
to jog across a tender frame
the fret that weeps
the sounds of a ukulele

the trap of my brain
the notes that play
and slog across my inner disdain
regrets that sleep
in mounds of dismay

perhaps it is the rain
the tune of the day
the dog that sees me with eyes of pain
sets aside the sheep
having found her prey

Posted in Leaves on the Poet Tree

The Missing Words

Sitting here in my chair of reflection,
I seek the missing words,
those that found me yesterday,
coming so fast I did not
have time to capture them
before they were gone,
winging away like
bright butterflies.

I am the flower they feed upon,
the nectar for their
thirsting tongues.
If I wait, they will return.
The page fills again.
My stories are carried
away on the wind.

Posted in Leaves on the Poet Tree


i awake

rising from
the mud
the taste
of pig slop
still in
my mouth
i begin
the long

Posted in Leaves on the Poet Tree

Perhaps what I am waiting for

perhaps what i am waiting for
is already right here
waiting for me
to simply acknowledge
its presence
like a precious thing
once thought lost
that never was

hidden in plain view
until i took my eyes
off the distracting shine
of what i thought
was precious
and saw again
that which so
patiently and
lovingly has
always been here
waiting for me

Posted in Leaves on the Poet Tree

Riding Shotgun

change is the only constant
i’ve been told
so why is there so much in me
that is intransigent
the habits of years have carved
ruts in me that the
wheels of my life follow without question

if i am honest i’ll admit that
i am not the driver
of this crazy runaway coach
yet honesty is terrifying
it requires a release
of the reins

god smiles
cracks the whip
and suddenly we bounce from
the crooked way
and are racing across
the badlands
the wind in our hair
leaving the would be thieves
far far behind

Posted in Leaves on the Poet Tree

We’re Going Wrong

sheltered from the
bitter cold and
the flashing blue
i drive past my
dreaded brother
being handcuffed
against his car
while cream sings
on my cd player
we’re going wrong

Posted in Leaves on the Poet Tree

Category 5

i have rarely been gentle with myself

at times my inner storm bursts forth and i lash out at those closest to me

it is a cyclical pattern as predictable as the spinning cyclones birthed upon the waves each hurricane season

o for the calm that resides in the eye
to trust that change will come in its own good time
that the divine does her work with or without my help or obstruction

o for the will to simply stop spinning and listen
the patience with my broken self and the brokeness in others
whose perceived stagnancy
reflects my own
and spins the inner rage
which so often overflows
in word and deed

o for the silence
that follows the whirlwind
that calls me forth from
the cave of my
skewed assumptions
into a spirit
of deep love and
quiet grace