I woman, mother, writer, friend AM breathe in, breathe out, foot down, grab hand NOT
POEM: The Potter
written for my dear friend and extraordinary artist, D Whigham THE POTTER The wheel spins. She throws heavy clay, imagining. Her hands move quickly, forming the moments of life for the fire and the flame.
POEM: First Flight
In the monotony of our snowy February, I received a poetry prompt: write about first love. In spite of the looming holiday, I was quite unsentimental. Until, that is, I watched the birds outside my dining room window, who sacrificed themselves for the chance of wild flight. Here is a eulogy for the wild winged… Read More
