A bench is an invitation to become one with it for a while, to sit and be still in your surroundings, and let nature and the world flow around you.

Do you struggle? Do you have a lament? The footprint of the pandemic is everywhere.

A poem dedicated to my brother, a victim of suicide, who suffered in silence. Call the suicide prevention hotline at 800-273-8255.

Cicadas and air conditioners are the soundtrack of warm summer evenings as the indigo sky darkens on another day.

A remembrance poem for a gentle dog who licked my hand and leapt into my heart.

In the winter of our COVID-19 discontent, spring is a reminder that resilience, empathy and love are the strongest contagions.

Everyone touches the world in their own way. Making my own tiny imprint through this blog, I want to write more about the gentle things in life.

Glover Gardens’ first guest blogger shares memories of his grandmother with a beautiful translation of Still by Jupiter Jones.

A poem by Gordon Parks speaks of curiosity, wonder, celebration of life and nature, and the awesome, simple, dead-on-target mindfulness of children.

A footprint, a feather and a leaf, about to be swept away. Remembering my brother in a haiku.

A whimsical poem about writer’s block and an elusive paragraph.

I’m not on the recommended pace to write a poem each day this month to participate in National Poetry Month, but this one happened in about 30 seconds. There will never be another muse like my Dad. He was a remarkable, wonderful, loving, accepting, listening […]

A vignette in the produce section inspired a poem about dads and daughters.

A clarion call for mindfulness: what if every day was new year’s day?

An elegy for three, from the one remaining. They live in my heart-theater, their voices all trumpets and whispers and hugs.

Bitter over a teenage breakup, I wrote a tiny little poem, a tanshi. It has always stuck with me; it’s so bitter and melodramatic that it makes me laugh.

A poem from the heart on Mothers’ Day about the incredible blessing of having a kid.

A humble little poem welcoming spring’s call.

The author of the A Passers By blog says, “Give me a word and I will write a poem starting with that word.”  So I did!

This heartfelt, ironic, wry and ultimately sweet poem is worth 3 minutes of your time.  Click on the link below to hear it read aloud. Merry Christmas. E. B. White sends Christmas greetings to uncertified accountants, old men asleep in libraries, and people who think […]