The Sigh Of Things

The Sigh Of Things

The call of kissing waters cold

Is heard bird wise, above, below

In leaves of lyric, skip of stone

By glint of sea for all I know

In ancient eye, by flap of feather

Tidal pools perceive the weather

Witness oh! the shine of things;

It’s the how of the why the soul now sings.


This dream of trees take with them one

As they go gladly, ever on

Away from where we fall they are

Dancing elsewhere under stars

Beyond the here of every now

(who would hold on anyhow?)

They sound out beauty, simply sighing

And sing the when of who is dying.


Spring will come and ever so

To teach the new the old ones know

And dream the reach of mystery sweet

As clouds move on and stars retreat.

Mother Earth receives your bones

As we will wander on, alone

We’ll gather young ones now and then

To sing  your season, hello again.





Hunting bear,
I creep crone-like, steady
through bracken and bushes
barren this time of year
I catch a scent in the silk of the air
and freeze, heart pounding, some
inner twig snapped. I now understand
what is required and I retreat slowly
where once I would have flown.


Dear Internet

Dear Internet

I love you

as much as anyone

but please

stop sending me

petitions to sign

hashtags to copy

links to forward on.


Please stop

asking me to

sign in with my

FaceBook account.


If you simply must

comment by

posting a wall of words

then for chrissakes

make a new paragraph

every once in awhile

so I can imagine

you as thoughtful

rather than ranting

obviously off your meds.

Manners matter mister.


Also, while you’re at it

can you figure out

some way to discourage

trolling on youtube?

I mean,

without going even more

big brother on me

than you already are

by tailoring ads

to my latest search

for example.

It’s creeping me

right out.


By all means,

Send me pics of

your grandchild

pulling up carrots

from your summer garden

in her yellow sun dress

a gap-toothed grin on her

ice cream face.


Surely you know

I crave the innocence

of that calico kitten,

rescued from the shelter

with her tabby brother,

curled up together

on your bed

kneading the fresh,

lilac-scented linens.

I can hear their drowsy purr

from here and it helps



I’m prepared to forgive you

for the hateful rhetoric

you spew forth with

alarming frequency,

I’m ready to overlook

your incessant bad news

and all your mean-spirited

celebrity gossip

if you will just grant me

an heroic act here and

an ecological breakthrough

there and a kindness shown

to any living creature

anywhere at all.


I’ve given up a lot for you…

novels, spare time, self-respect.

The least you can do for me

is distract me from my losses

with your wonderful wikis

with audible pronunciations

of words I’ve never heard,

with potentially helpful directions

to wherever I need to go.


I had no idea you would

change my brain

when we first met

but you surely did.

Just like love.


Now I’m faced with

having to renegotiate

our terms of endearment

but don’t worry.

I’ll be seeing less of you

in the future

but I’ll miss you

when I’m gone.


60 Easy Steps to Happiness

60 Easy Steps to Happiness

Wake at 7

turn the tap

boil the water

feed the cat

make the tea

walk the dogs

pour the cups

wipe the paws

go back to bed

sleep in the nude

read a book

<have an interlude>.


Draw the drapes

watch a hummer

hover gently

enjoy the summer

cook an egg

toast the bread

wash the dishes

make the bed

feed the dogs

fresh their water

kiss the spouse

hug your daughter.


Weed the beds

cut the flowers

fill the vases

have a shower

seize the day

sweep the deck

dust the dresser

choose a dress

tie your laces

buff your shoes

plan your lunch

forget the news.


Load the washer

clean the floor

fold the clothes

regrets? Ignore!

serve the dinner

wash each dish

clink your glasses

make a wish :)

Call your mother

read a bit

write a letter

sew or knit.


Count the stars

admire the moon

play a song

sing a tune

write a poem

pet your dogs

hear the crickets

call to frogs.

Go to bed

breathe in deep

count your blessings

fall asleep.


The Gift Of the Dying

The Gift Of the Dying

You give us much in going
Moments we will never forget
Tears too close
To the surface
So just holding my hand
It’s enough
Words glance off the surface
Of what we want to say
The look on your face
Tells me everything
I need to know
The hour is late
Your gifts are fading
I’m so grateful
We had it all.













sweet birdsong
breaking dawn
dogs flat out
blanket hogs
old black cat
at my front door
(she’s on the
wrong side

Get the coffee perking
open up the curtains
it’s a brand new day
it’s a grand new day
sun’s in the room
garden’s in bloom
it’s all just joy!
believe you me

First ripe apple
on a backyard tree
A rare songbird
you finally see
Singing songs so fine
they set you free
it’s all just joy
believe you me

song berries
hanging on the bush
blackberry bite
raspberry rush
strawberry sundae
blueberry tea
It’s all just joy
believe you me

Sweet birdsong
sun down gone
dogs flat out
blanket hogs
old black cat
at my front door
(she’s on the
wrong side



Imagine That

Imagine That

I woke up
from my dream of you
and went about my day
in your company again
watching birds
walking dogs
burning toast
sweeping floors
drinking chai tea

You don’t say much these days

Turns out you were
staying with a friend
in Portland of all places
finishing your masters
drinking screwdrivers
smoking DuMaurier Milds
dreaming of Mexico

Turns out you didn’t really die
November 21st 1995
in the hospital bed
we set up in our living room
and you haven’t changed a bit
in all these years

We’ve just been living
in different worlds you and I
parallel lives
in alternate universes
all these years
me in my dream and you in yours

imagine that




The spirit
is at its most powerful
not when it is ethereal,
above the dualities
of this world,
but when it is rooted
in our practical actions
and daily endeavor.
The line between
our higher and lower selves
remains arbitrary
all our lives, changeable
like weather
like jazz…
we improvise.

The body
is held up to the light
and grows toward it
from the ground up
until our view
fixes on the horizon
and our steps begin
to take us where
we’re called to go,
together if we’re
and crazy enough
to gut out
this lottery we’ve won.

The heart
is caught up
in this sweet dream
of wings aloft
it sings at daybreak.
It beats not because
there’s reason
but because it must,
though broken
it strives to open
to embrace
to keep time
in this incredible world.

The mystery
is what brought us here
from the other side
to walk toward
our unknowable end.
It is the pull of our tides
and the shine in our eyes.
We are the dream
and the dreamer.
Even as we wake
we journey on
between two worlds
for a brief moment
in beauty
and bewilderment.
It is the best we have
It is our unimaginable
great good fortune
to be here now
and to go on


The Good Of This World

The Good Of This World

Remember Grandma’s quiet smile?
Her tuneless humming as she sorted her cards
Tapped her worn fingernails, her hands could take
Immersion in boiling water, as I recall.
She drank weak, luke-warm instant coffee, her glasses
Slid down her nose…Remember how
We rolled our eyes at her constant telling
Of the tea story? “Old GB McTavish said”
(Upon hearing I was under the weather)
“Give that child a good cup of tea, not too weak,
Golden coloured, with milk and sugar.”
A series of small strokes and the story was lost
But one day it resurfaced and
We grinned like lunatics, so happy
To hear the old lines, verbatim, one more time.

How about the Fibber McGhee drawer?
Rows of jams and jellies, pickles and garlic dills.
She loved her roses too, didn’t she?
And didn’t we love her with all our hearts?

I watched you perm her hair,
or colour then set it,
A hundred times or more. I watched her
Wander in the garden, picking raspberries,
Picking apples for pies made with Grandpa
Her partner of 60 years
Her devoted apple-peeler.
How lucky we were to have the pleasure
Of their company for as long as we did.

My childhood was saved by their kindness
And your fortitude. We all thrived together.
I’ve been too lucky, never missed a meal,
I slept in safe beds with fresh sheets under
Cool night air through open windows.
How lucky I am to have had you
and them.

Now our tea is perfect with blackberry
honey and vanilla chai soy. Let’s sit.
Consider the joy your sweet little dog brings us,
And my two canine characters,
tails waving, happy panting…
hopeful noses close to dinner plates.
Here we are… so fortunate for this time
We have together.