we are women now drinking tea on a sunny afternoon— mango ceylon or ginger mint? we each choose carefully, with taste and tasting in mind   the first decade of adulthood is behind us and so is the past for all the gifts of our college years, this was not one of them:   the resurrection of our lives from the ashes of who we thought we were   the sun moves across the windows, tracing the hours we do not bother to track the tea grows cold in the bottom of our cups   we share our new names, writer, woman, poet the treasure beginning to unbury itself   poetry flutters between our...

1.   My little sister turned 30.   We spent the whole day watching the rain through the wide windows.   Outside, the creek rose and rushed, a river of childhood memories.   Inside, it was the first time I saw her baby crawl, rushing forward into childhood.   The one who hates aging dreams. The one who doesn’t mind lives the dream.   2.   Grandfather C. bends forward more each time I see him. Today his beautiful white hair, clean and combed, rests like a tidied, empty nest above his beautiful, smooth face. His blue eyes are bright on this visit although there is less...

I cannot bear it – the tears, the pain, the weight of ruined lives crumbling under the strain of evil.   The earth grieves and groans with the blood that stains her soil, with the hate that shatters life; she toils to hold the dead.   The universe stands silent before the aching cries of earth that echo into space; of darkness, grief and hope that lies beneath the rubble.   A weeping God comes close; with bleeding hands he reaches down to comfort, love and heal. Oh, let not the walls of hate keep out the only hope that’s real.   Our mourning hearts must rise above the enemy’s dark...

Have you ever stood outside in the gray morning as the first drops of cool rain begin to fall on your warm skin in the humidity of late summer? A flock of black birds crowds onto a small patch of your neighbor’s yard. The trees above you receive, gladly, the soft pats of rain on their hands while the house sings quietly under its touch. Have you been unable to stop the smile— oh, what makes you smile— as you clutched to your heart the bright shafts of sunlight which you plucked from the weeds alongside the ditch?   If so, then I know you have tasted what is hidden in a single moment, you have...

late August, late afternoon after a shower   fallen rain forms countless shining pools on the freshly stained deck, now darkened with water   narrow yellow leaves touched with spots of brown, blown onto the deck by the storm, paste themselves next to young green maple leaves, each glistening like silver shafts of light under the descending golden sun   the bright water beads, the dark deck, the shining leaves, whisper   autumn, they say,   and I can hardly wait  ...