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The Bell Cannot be Unrung
With sure, deft strokes Born of habit and practice I close the wound Like a brush Painting over graffiti The hateful words cannot be seen But they are still there Trapped now Never to be released
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Imperfect Beauty
Bent like an old woman’s back Nearly double Brown and dry If perfect beauty exists This is not it Often it is what is not said That is most important
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Senyru 2
As bare as are bones The trees have lost all their leaves Beauty still resides
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Senyru
Pumpkins wear snow hats Winter arrives in Autumn Leaves freshly fallen
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First Snow
Today is October 12, 2021 and the first snow of the fall season fell overnight. It is snowing as I write this and it is forecast to snow throughout the day. There is a good chance that we won’t see bright sunshine for a day or two. But I have the memory of sun on…
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Grace
She has whittled it. And refined it. She has pared it down over the years. Until it is something fine and indefinable. The young don’t have it. With their restless and boundless energy. Always fidgeting and stuttering. She makes reaching for a glass of water and act of grace. She glides from her chair into…
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What Makes a Writer Good
Boy, if I had the answer to that question, I’d be rich. I know what it is about the authors I enjoy reading. Or at least I think I know. Trying to quantify and qualify it is another matter. I sort of covered this in a post about the five things I look for in…
Maddie's Mom Writes 