I guess a lot could be left unsaid. And we could dream into the gray area between what I could have said and what you thought I meant without saying anything at all. Let’s do that. Allow our bodies to writhe and whisper sing our stories in motion. Walking to the mailbox Closing the door…

The coffee made early morning rests cold in the french press. Waiting our communion Not myself and the coffee, yet all the parts of me circled in grand reunion. Small me with strawberry pants and Tonka Truck carrying Barbie in tow. Chubby me squeezed into tights and taken to dance to explore life as the…

Remind me how to slow down she said, because I desperately wish to move slower. So slow I feel the tips of my feathers as they touch into the wet grain of this riverside. So slow that many winters of woodsmoke are released when I walk. My feet golden coals in no hurry to burn….

Walking the fields gathering evergreen and vine remembering how we’d wander directionless picking flowers and sticks to feed the hungry stove and whatever else caught our eye. We’d fall to the ground after a while as two animals out wandering should easy in our bodies. How you’d quiet the demands of the world. Together we’d…

It happens just like that Leaves lush and spilling forth covering us in spring’s abundance. Now baked golden and swirling in our breath Lapping autumn pools like a moon belly growing wide and wise in the year. It happens just like that Your small fur body, warm at home in my hand Now buried beneath…

Sitting with the dark, watching for my shadow. Old friend. Arch Nemesis. Keeper of Secrets. Divine holder of all the parts that didn’t fit and find their way, all the flickerings and warm connections that most certainly did. That move with me in the subtle motion of my hips, that shine through like gold belly…

A swell of velvet red rising, warming its way into every facet of you.Feet that carry, firm and unwavering.Hips that hold and twist and bend you forward and over and back.Chest cage open, resting and receptive, fallow in-between the flood of fresh oxygenated bloodLike Princess Scargo’s pond all dried up to four fish.Yet the tears…

It was truly one of the glimmering little highlights of my summer to spend some time with Partnership for Appalachian Girls’ Education (PAGE Programs) and Asheville Artist Jenny Pickens to capture the vital work they’re doing with Madison County girls for the Hot Springs Tourism & Welcome Center. You can read the full article here….

It’s so quiet without you here, without the gentle click of your feet. I keep waiting for you to come around the corner, smiling with those tiny lower teeth, nuzzling into my calves for a sleepy morning hug. I keep walking past the places where your bed laid, seeing the golden curl of your body…

If you were to ask I’d proudly tell you that I am a tender of the quiet in the morning and the gentle lifting of light through the trees. I’d tell you I’m a noticer of subtle shifts between your breath and mine…