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…

My body was born by the Great Dismal Swamp from a fire-headed woman who hummed hymnals in the mornin like she was raising the sun. 36 years later I feel them pulsing, carrying me like her green bean casserole with that homemade gravy you return to like home after a hard day. My heart was…

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…

Sitting outside by the old apple tree. Shakin’ this wooden rattle ’til my mind goes blank and I’m carried away in it all. The small brown finches with their fast-footed free-form ecstatic dance. The easy sway of silver maples overhead. Cows bawling low and slow off in the valley. My thumb caresses into the soft…

I have been given a vine. It’s long and unwieldy. I study its length, look at around at the overwhelming mass from which it stems. I see others with their ends and middles and off-shoots. I begin to weave forward and over as best I can with the thickness of this root. Others around me…

The forest rests its wet threaded branches with morning dew. Altogether showered and ready for their day. Gauzy golden light held within wet needles. Wrapping itself around sticky branches in warm lemon layers, sheltering you. Toes touch into the thick mud holding you, holding we altogether. To slide and slip and shift our sweaters and…

Paws tossle thick mounds of clay, unearthing possibility. Digging away the dark, burrowing my worthy rabbit body back into its breathing hedge above. A familiar wild, wanting of my soft feathered body as I am of its thick familiar tufts of unruly wild-grass. See, I sing hum in my mothering lullaby, like a tuning fork…

We trudged through the snow as if it were a morning chore at first.On our long list of honey-dos.Bearing the weight of a brisk February wind on our faces.Whipping them into strawberry moon pies.Tiny foot pockets of deer feet and onion sprigs announcing themselves as we walked through.The valley holding us real careful,walking warm broth…

A second (revised and updated) printing of my poetry book Soft With Me is now available, featuring twice as many poems as the first with 23 total, written throughout the past three years. It’s a collection of what I call Poetic Narrative, an allowing of the everyday flow of life to fuse with the symbology,…

An outstretching, unfurling…Slow step. And again.Perhaps you’ll carry this ache just a bit further around the bend.And then again.  We cannot know what’s waiting in tomorrow’s womb.Wouldn’t want to ruin her sweet surprise. Quiet the mind.Sink hips to thighs and thighs to calves and calves to toes and go on now, set forth with her.Reconnect the dark…