Sunday Morning Ten Miler

disrance run female

Miles 1 &2: done at a trot up and over the long grades of the road

Mile 3: a cold spring wind comes from the North

Bracing and refreshing in the high morning sun

Miles 4 & 5: running over the rolling rises

Passing windswept ponds and majestic pines and oaks

Mile 6: the relief of the flats

Daffodils in various stages of bloom

Mile 7: the railroad tracks

Then another climb with a view of the Vale-

The mills, river and the old manse

Moving by the boys’ old elementary school

Deserted on this seventh morn

Mile 8: Charlotte Drive

Legs carrying me along the curves and wetlands

Ready for another hill

I lean in, reaching its crest with a whoop of relief

Then it’s down the rattlesnake road

Winding and quick to the waterfall

Mile 9: one last ascension

A half-mile long

Feet dragging, legs aching

I force myself to pick up speed

Mile 10: home is in sight

The finish draws near

A hot shower awaits me

to settle my beaten body

I let the steaming water

stream over my head

My skin is red from the heat as my muscles relax

I have eased my mind and I am at peace

Morning Repose

spring rain

She slept with the window open by her bed

The rain moved in overnight

Breathing in the soothing smell of its spring dampness

It rested her weary mind and body

She allowed for more sleep and a slower movement toward her day

Coffee in bed

A love letter to her fiancé


The patter of rain outside

The birds rising and singing

The streets deathly still

A lone train whistling in the distance


 the tranquility

 the harmony

the hush

of a brand new day

Hearth, Home & Hope

hearth and home

The colors have been tendered

 Giving birth to emotional well-being

    A sense of balance

    A return to normalcy

The ugliness has been purged

  with the stroke of each brush

  and the spinning of each roller

Tonight her aching muscles

  and paint spotted hands

  will rest well

Awakening at dawn

to a home that she has recreated



White washed walls

Scrubbed so the surface is smooth

Removing the stains of mistakes and neglect

Primed for new colors of warmth and care

Door jams set straight after life went askew

Trimmed in a high gloss white

Shining in pride and joy

Floors buffed to a glowing earthen shade

Ready to grow roots for a new life

A dwelling of devotion

A retreat for rest

A place of peace

Home Renovation Blues

home renovation

Remove the switch plates and doors

Rearrange the furniture, cover the TV

Spackle the holes

Sand the ceiling

Blue Tape the edges

Prime the trim (two coats will do)

Now it is time for the painting to begin:

Three cans for the ceiling

Two for the trim

Two for the hall

Two more for the one we like to live in

Wow what a fortune!

I hope I like the colors…

cuz this project

is killing my almighty dollar!

Post-Run Appetite

post run appetite

Though my run is done

My appetite has just begun

My stomach feels hollow

I can’t wait to have a big swallow

of eggs, bagel and a soy latte’

My mouth is ready for a parte’*

Oh, it tastes so good

to be eating what I should

The food is a fuel

a righteous yummy  tool

that keeps my cheeks bright

my legs strong and tight

my eyes wide and clear

so I can train with no fear


*said with a Boston accent

Transformation, Alteration, Transmutation


The walls have been laid bare

The photos and prints stored away

Small furnishings are scattered

throughout the house

As I look around me

I see a space that is awaiting rebirth

A place that still holds the last vestiges

of someone else’s vision

We await in fervent anticipation

for the misty blush of new colors

Soon the dirt will be sanded away

Holes will be patched

And hearts will continue to heal

Friday Gloom

friday gloom

Since it is Friday, poet Kellie Elmore has given us her Free Write prompt so I am coupling it with the National Poetry Month’s daily poem challenge from Word Press. Be sure to visit Kellie’s page to see all the postings.


The afternoon has turned raw

A heavy mist hangs in the air

Chill cuts through my thin skin

My bones feel old with the cold

The wind picks up the water

Windows  are smashing and buckling

with each hollowing gust

The songbirds are silent

Crocus and daffodil return

to their  slumber

We are bereft of warmth and sun

Mother Nature’s fickle ways

Belie the calendar month

Spring I beseech you:

Return! Return! Return!