
Haiku: End of Summer Trip
Twenty years ago
A little boy hops a swan
To float in a park

Haiku: End of Summer Trip
Twenty years ago
A little boy hops a swan
To float in a park
Sitting in the yard
With our comfy hoodies on
Keep this memory


Tiny bell-shaped blooms
Sweet, intoxicating scent
I bring a few in

Happy Mother’s Day
đź’•

Lilac bough arches
over the sidewalk it calls
Bury your face here
No one to stop him
Laws and norms and allies crushed
Grief and fear growing
Ohio’s trash dad
Obsequiousness oozing
From his smug, fat face

Each new outrage sears
As they are designed to do
If you can’t watch, breathe
Week One of having a rapist and convicted felon in the White House has sent me back to meditation. I’m fortunate that my minister holds weekly online guided meditation for free. She talks for a bit and then we sit in shared silence, paying attention to our breathing, for about 30 minutes. When a thought pops in, I try to just notice it, then let it float away and return to my breath or mantra. The mantra I’ve been using is “Be Here Now.”

Perfect little hand
A bubble of love surrounds
Baby brings such joy

Polite and formal
To avoid full estrangement
Might be the best path
