Monday, June 8, 2020


but the night
wasn’t always

and neither
was the rain


everyday sacred

as i approach
the sun-soaked forest

i stop and inhale

this, too
is hallowed ground


on butterflies (and humans)

you are
a painting in motion

never let
the world tell you otherwise


better days ahead

the hungry way
daffodils reach
for the sun

my joy
hinges on recounting
such lovely things



tossing and turning
in this bed hewn
from jagged stone

i am
so lost
without your light

*Published in Fireflies’ Light: A Magazine of Short Poems #19