I dreamt of coyote

last night

He came to me

through the opening

of a tight orange canyon

eye to eye

coyote was not laughing

and I knew this was bad

the visions came

A broken lance

“Snake Oil”

I stood on a rock in white deer skin

howling into falling snow

as horses ran

a painful lesson

of needing to

let go

LAS  copyright 2017  All Rights Reserved

Photo courtesy of Pixabay


The Chase

Chase me to the moon and back

weaving hide and seek patterns through beams of silver

The comets collide

rocking me back on heels

showering my heart with a million tiny fragments

in a benediction of emotions

as broad as the spectrum of light


naked in honesty

and replete with who we are

continuing a cycle

through this cosmos we created

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If I show my heart right now, will he run?  If I tell him that I may have fallen for him from the first time I saw him through pictures and words and the unspoken kindnesses I see in his smile… would it frighten him? What if I tell him that I understand the horrors he has seen, the joys in small moments, that I am excited, yet scared and shy as a doe coming out of the brush?

My mornings have been richer this week because of him.  I don’t let a lot of people truly close to me.  Old fears.  People can be so cruel.  Like the snow melting, droplets forming trickles, pouring away from my frozen heart for a Spring to push up grasses and flowers and life after so long of being barren white.  I am so vulnerable and yet I yearn.

But when you let someone in, they know your soft spots…how deep your river flows…where the muddy spots are that push into brambles and thickets of dark brush. They know the hidden caves of treasure and the monsters you hide.  But I want to let him in.

A call.  A glance.   To share a word face to face and listen to the luxury of a human voice spinning a tale of their world…their truths, and deep fears, and shining glories.  The touch of another’s hand.

I have stood on this hillside, tying poems to tumbleweeds and setting them free to the wind.   Taking the chance that maybe they will be read before the sun and rain fade them and the winds shred them away.  Hoping that these fragile notes will crumble in the wrong hands.  Praying that the right heart, his heart, will hear and treasure them away in his mind and in secret. Smiling that I have spoken without demonstration and in the silence of the open skies just to reach him.

A chance of one in a million worth taking.  And yet I tie one more note to this ragged, old tumbleweed, raise it high in the wind and let it go.

LAS 2017 copyright All Rights Reserved

Run Off

The snow is melting.

Riverlets run through

leaf mold and last years bent grasses,

making their way to the creek bed.

It seemed that winter’s heavy coat

would suffocate the world

in white,

encasing it in ice;

God’s world trapped in crystal.

Long nights of hushed quiet,

the snow lays in layers of days and weeks

and accumulation of dreams

and farmers hopes

to melt as time passes to Spring.

Warmth is seeding the minutes,

pushing life to the surface

for the Spring’s maiden to show her finery

of purples, emeralds, and golds.

With the blessing of water,

it will be a lush year.

LAS  2017 copyright   All Rights Reserved

Red Dust Road

Dust down the old road

my heart broke

from the dreams going up

in moving on smoke

and I didn’t want to

the overwhelming crash

of the never agains and I’m sorry’s

Looking out for me

looking out

for someone special

that’s broken too

mend each other’s wounds

and laugh at the scars


that appreciates the oldies

and that slight crinkle around my eyes

taking me driving

down those old roads

kicking up this red dust

for new reasons

new dreams

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Wet on wet canvas

the Prussian blue blooms and spreads across

the white



to dissipate the fog below it

stopping at the paint resist

to allow for clouds

Hills of emerald

trees with new growth

and a figure indistinct

walks beneath a brook

fantasies come to life

from pictures in my mind

former days

I will take time

with this one

conjuring a future

of how I want my life to be

painting another figure

next to the man

by the brook

hoping the watercolors and the dreams

will hold true

as the color wheel blends

and my thoughts turn to a new Spring

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Before the Healing



So much hatred

so much pain

she watches the ruin of

the kingdom

devouring itself

great destruction

the ouroboros


as a chariots wheel

driven by the phoenix

turning onward to annihilation

before the healing and rebuilding again

Tired of the devastation

she removes herself to the garden

to sit and pray

refresh her soul

under the trees

Green grass rising up

the song of birds greet her

perhaps there is hope


of the smallest grains

that may grow peace

LAS copyright 2017  All Rights Reserved

The Greatest Reason in the World for Kindness.

Sumyanna wrote this article and I love it!

After reading the news of this past weekend, I am in serious doubt as to the sanity of our country. Can we please all just take a step back, breathe and act like somewhat civilized human beings? Can we not be kind, thoughtful, and come to some come ground understanding instead of trying to rip each other’s throats out because of political, racial, or other issues? This behavior is not love or caring. There are other ways to plead your case and support your causes than this ugliness.  It’s an excuse to be savage.

Just be kind.

Sumyanna Writes


This week’s Discover Challenge at The Daily Post is to write: The Greatest _____ in the World.  I know that I have not exactly responded to the prompt as expected.  Truthfully, however, the moment I saw the prompt the words “The greatest reason in the world for kindness” popped into my head.  Usually not one to silence that inner voice, I have decided to take this in a different direction.  If you know me – you will not be surprised at all by that decision 🙂

There are moments that we all can recall from our own histories, no matter how long or small they might be, that we have known extraordinary kindness.  It matters not, if we were fortunate to have loving parents, doting grandparents, a wonderfully inspiring teacher, or even just a stranger who passed us by one day and we have never been able to forget their kindness. …

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Saturday Morning

courtesy of pixabay


get the housework done!

There are things waiting to

be played with later

behind the closed door of my room.

Two cats sit

eyeing me with anticipation,

knowing it’s their day

watching me buzzing about

ticking off the to-do list.

Pajama clad,

grabbing my lunch

to bring downstairs,

the cats and I

enter the privacy of our room…

wading through the heady incense

of linseed oil, lacquers,

resin and paints on the desk,

silver jewelry plates,

fountain pens and books,

beads in boxes .

My brushes stand ready soldiers

in their glass

lying close at hand to the remote

where across the room

“Sherlock”will be played all day

binge-watching while I work in

colours and bits of paper

paint and ink

created from designs

in a world of my own.


LAS copyright 2017 All Rights Reserved

courtesy of pixabay