Childhood Flyby
Childhood is but a flurry Glitter, winks in sunlight beams, flung onto carpeted floor after PB&J lunches. Bubbles, blown to each other's noses, bounce and burst on summer breezes. Hair, tossed
Homestead Porch View
“Hush. The wind sings a hymn.” “Nonsense. The same wind, hot and thick and dry As wool in summer on my skin.” “Listen. No rush of river of gush of streams. Such gravity
Image of My Father
Who is my father to me? Old Chevy truck, jumbled toolbox, Knicks and knacks, garage full of sawdust. Peanut shells on the floor and shelves —endless Pringle cans of bent nails. Empty hook
Under the Covers
The world under a bluish-gray blanket Lies quiet and still as a child caught reading. She listens to the shudder of semi-trucks and mufflers Like a father’s obnoxious snoring. Bulbs glow ghostly
Blue Jeans
I'm a blue jeans kinda girl Not the bull ridin’, dust flyin’ rodeo, But the small town is my hometown, room to grow. I’m a ponytail every day kinda girl Not the
Questions for Love
There are two birds That always fly together In the sky, Singing, laughing, and sharing life. We were they. Until one day You fell away. Left alone, I began to regret All the
Only for a Moment
The earth trembled. The sky blackened. “Defeat,” demons whispered. He— The Son of God, The Light of Man— Gone out. Satan’s laughter Echoes under Jerusalem’s streets. God’s wrath rumbles in
The Sounds In-between
Listen. Hose, hats, heels click along cement sidewalks–– The city echoes with the punctuated remark. Or is that the harmony of guns cocked in war? Germany desires to settle its score. Keys clack
Uprooted
Heart beating fast Life flashing past Road leeching last Just breathe Uproot my roots like some old elm tree Looking for somewhere new to cast my boundary Pulling through and pushing past the