sunning itself —
an independent snail
on my neighbor's fence
walking into the sunrise —
today smells different —
do I?
across the creek
a woman croaks like a frog —
does not return my wave
ladybug
slowly over the ridges —
my aging hand
I am not a mother
& it's too early to call mine . . .
restless
church bells
as though for the first time
every Sunday morning
open windows
the world is
too loud for me
painted across the bridge
"Be Here Now"
I am
only the scent remains . . .
magnolia tree
a pair of cardinals in red
everyone else
is wearing black
black horse gallops toward me
— nearsightedness —
hello jogging girl
this week
I became
my mother
if I still had it
I'd wear it — red blouse for you
my cardinal friend
decades pass —
moving my bed across the room —
new dreams
summer plans:
be patient
grow a braid
ant — caught in the folds
of an origami star —
you free yourself
hibiscus tea
nearly
forgotten
wooden buttons
on my least favorite shirt —
a waste
butterfly — wait! — take me with you
early morning walk
I sing to the robins
they sing to me
my mother's lipstick —
I seek
the exact same shade
what is the sound of purple?
dear sister, it is your
deepest laughter
mandala moon
let us dance together
circles within circles
at the front door
a strand of blue paper butterflies —
hello // good-bye
this morning
a different path with
unfamiliar smells —
garden exotica . . .
thank you new neighbor
young man
cradling a Buddha statue —
such gentle smiles
even in shadow
my dangly earrings
jingle jangle
following a small butterfly
up the hill and down again —
until we lose sight of one another
repaired sidewalk
I remember my fall
years ago
lost in my thoughts
peonies pull me back to
now
mourning doves
coo my name —
zeeee zeeeee zeeeeeee
my purple Crocs
easy to pretend
I'm wearing irises on my feet
yellow police tape
between us —
a scattering of dandelions
I R I S
good morning
darling purpleness
discovery —
my inner marigold
still blooms
across the canal
Maggie's spirit
in the garden
walking behind
the black cat
superstitious
