memories

 

 

I remember how,

when we were young and in love,

it was the nape of his neck

that always raised the most tenderness

in me...



The mistletoe still hangs

from the chandelier

above the dining table

in case someone might be moved

to add kisses to the first course.

at the digital concert

the house lights dim,
the camera catches the audience,
and in the dusky light
the men's evening shirts shine like candles
in a sea of glowing, jeweled dresses

winter comes to the valley

 

 

the mist

the frost

the road to fairyland

sleepless nights

 

 

sleepless nights

produce dreams of their own

 

 

the west wind

is seduced into practicing

 his calligraphy

by the delft blue sky

the cloister

small birds

cloistered in the

cathedral of cedar branches

Misty Morning

A Small Stone from the Similkameen

A Sandburg fog
mews plaintively
throughout the muted valley

a small stone.....

I saw the full moon
balanced on the rim
of the mountain, and
shrouded in evening cloud.

Mysterious, miraculous

Diagnosis

Diagnosis

 

Catkins and blue sky

in January

cause slight giddiness

in the heart

of anticipation



day of surprizes

Missed a small stone day
when I shattered my wrist,
but heard Pressler play
(with smiling face and flying fingers),
Mozart and Chopin -
at ninety years of age

two standing ovations
and I clapped
with one hand

another frustration

I hear my mother say,
(as I try to make a collar fit,
rip another crooked seam...)
"put it away for the night"

my DVD won't work......
I'm off to bed to knit
the raveled sleeve of care...

a small stone from my desk

 

a new moleskine diary

pale pages

an invitation

a small stone from the Similkameen

 

 

I begin to notice

the lengthening day

and with a light heart

dine in daylight



 

 

 

 

I saw the sickle moon last night

sail boldly to the west 

tonight it hides its lovely face
discreet, behind a cloud

A small stone from the Similkameen

 

Candied ginger

with my sherry

sweet and sharp

a small stone from the Similkameen

a whisper
of sunshine
pending

A small stone from the Similkameen

my heart hesitates as I reach for the last wreath
 to join with the others, 

covered with Christmas garlands
in the deep, dark dreaming box

 

I leave it on the wall

a reminder of joyous days

and a poignant portent of spring...

 the roots that gather life....

covered with a garland of snow in their own

deep, dark dreaming box

A small stone from the Similkameen

 

blue wonderment

curious
as to what goes on
beyond the kitchen window.



A small stone from the Similkameen

Suffused with music
I lay my head on white linen
as Handel and Bartoli caution me
about gathering roses......

and I drift to sleep

Lascia la Spina