She blinks while the clock ticked empathy. Yesterday is crouching at her heart,. She pours another cup of logic. Her conscience argues, be yourself. As time slips away into the world that. Oday its time to change with her . No fear in Gods love. When I made it to Spring,. I tried to get up on my own.

Poetry for the rest of us. Please stop over at the Barn Door,. The milk is gone and we need some for breakfast. A light bulb in the kitchen has burnt out. The furnace filter needs to be replaced. A spider is in the tub. A branch has fallen down in the backyard. No matter what it is.

Better to hug close, wary of rubble and falling stones. Saturday, August 27, 2011. When I was just a little thing. I used to love parades. With banners, bands, red balloons,. When I came home one May Day,. 8220;Them marchers is all commies. My hair back then was brown. Our house was plain red brick-. Like most others in the town. So I went and asked my momma. And this is what she said,.

Wednesday, December 17, 2014. You wake and the candles are lit as if by themselves, stars gather, dreams pour into your pillows, sending up warm bouquets of air. Happy Holidays, poetry lovers! Wednesday, May 28, 2014.