Sweet Summit


Air: A clean briskness as we commenced our ascent

The rugged and roughed terrain slick with mud

and granite waterfalls

and thick, melting snow

We bushwack our way off the trail

Avoiding the micro glaciers that are sure to plant us on our face

The breath and sweat from our exertions is soon evident

I slip my crampons on

Each step closer to the rock face warmth

Trail anointed by silver cairns and orange blazes

The subalpine space is 360 degrees wide open

A tristate view

Higher peaks still holding onto the fourth season

Yet their lower elevation cousins a blanket of purple-brown

We lunch by the lookout

A trinity already risen

Celebrating another resurrection

 A luscious Easter Feast


My sons and I climbed a mountain on this Easter Day. This inscription was on the Lookout tower at the summit. Poetry at 3511 feet! (photos taken with my phone)


Why I Run

Credit: davegetzschman.photoshelter.com

I run for no specific reason

I run because I like to feel the morning air on my face

The dark nip of winter

The welcoming breeze of spring

The heat of summer

and the tri-colored relief of  autumn

I run to  feel the aches

as I first shuffle my feet

and the sweet release as I enter my stride

 I run to see the changes in my world reveal themselves bit by bit

I run to listen to the day’s first stirrings

and the night’s final slumber

to hear the coyotes’ howls

the red tail’s hunt

the snort of  deer

and the yip of the fox 

I run to peek at Venus, my morning star in the east

I run to watch the moon’s final rise at the first mile

and the sun’s first with one to go

I run to breathe, to think (or not)

I run because I want to feel alive

and take in my daily dose of peace

The Mighty Fall

Øyvind Gregersen

Øyvind Gregersen


The mighty warrior of freedom had grown weary

Her values trampled upon

Pieces of her principles pulled away

Her mirror image tarnished by corporate forces

Waving their claim as ‘people too’

as an excuse to influence the laws of the land

Rights to vote

Rights to assemble

Rights to privacy

Rights of access narrowed

under the guise of false frauds, false gods and false enemies

Created through the soft wars on color, orientation and women and the poor

 Leaving us all with the question: What does freedom mean to you?



Ms. Kellie Elmore gave us quite the provocative image prompt this week:

Use the image at the following link as your inspiration. I can’t wait to read the responses to this one! http://1x.com/photo/45546/

Well, I never like to get too opinionated about issues given that we lack a civil discourse these days. I am a woman of strong convictions based on my life experiences.  Five decades worth certainly means something! But my beliefs are mine and I do not expect to share the same ones or to convince others that I am right.  Actually, the image reminded me of  a book I once read that has stayed with me for a long time. Margaret Atwood’s  “The Handmaid’s Tale” was written in 1985 and I read it shortly after it was published.  (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Handmaid%27s_Tale). I highly recommend it.

What Can I Tell You?

Credit: tinybuddha.com

I cannot tell you that it will not hurt

That the psychic pain will sear you

burn you to your very core

I cannot tell you that your body will become a wasteland

that you will look like a refugee from the worst of domestic wars

That you will feel like a starved prisoner

trapped in a situation for which you have no control

I cannot tell you that you will not worry

That every movement will be fraught with fear about your future

That you will be staring down that black hole of endless bills and debt

I cannot tell you that you will not be angry

Foaming and raging at the actions and constant manipulations of the other

That his need for control will feel like another constraint and strangulation


I can tell you that the pain will fold itself into the dark corners of your heart

That your body once again will be fertile ground

I can tell you that you will become a citizen of your own nation

a freed captive with a belly full of self-protecting ammunition

I can tell you that every advance will be fueled by your freedom

That the once endless abyss of scarcity will overflow with abundance

 I can tell you that your resentment will replaced by indifference 

that you will be the mistress of your own destiny

and the  queen of your own kingdom


Lunar Tetrad



I watched the Blood Moon rise tonight

Fighting to be center stage with the fierce Spring winds

Its appearance is a ball of dust in the gray black dusk

Shape shifting second by second

 Securing its space in the sky

 To the unknowing  eye it is but a whiff  of  smoke

A vampy vapor  vieing  for luminosity

But the wind  is hip to her vice

Shrouding her shame

Tamping down her flame

We’ll  see then if the winds wins over this feisty dame


Monday and Tuesday night promised a lunar eclipse but the forecast called for rain overnight. I took this photo with my phone (thus the quality!) in order to at least get a glimpse of one of Mother Nature’s miracles. Sometimes my backyard is a slice of heaven!

In Your Eyes

Credit:  ineedchemicalx.deviantart.com

She kissed him softly, leaving a pink tattoo on his cheek

There was a worn tenderness to his being

A sweet masculine aura 

His greetings arrived like a whisper

Like velvet

Soothing as silk

 A cool breeze that sparks your heart

They might see one another in a crowded room of familiars

and the world would still as he planted his lips quietly on her nose

They possessed an unknown affection for each other

A kinship of few words and many shared plights

They left no time for the niceties of the shallow “How are yous”

Instead  the river of their words ran strong and deep

When her need for him was acute,

she would conjure a prayer to the universe

wishing for his manifestation 

His presence gave solace to her soul

Life stories shared

Life stories held

Life stories with no judgement

Each on separate paths

Tending the fires of their own loves

Rejoicing in one another’s  journey

A Wiser Woman

Credit: www.flickr.com


She’s just like him

Words of wisdom from a child

He keeps his distance

Stands his ground


I had never seen her

But became acutely aware of her on that April morning

You know that feeling when someone is looking at you behind your back?

I turn to look

She penetrated my gaze

Followed me out the door

I turned once again

Laser-like, strong in my volley

I sensed an artist of insinuation in my midst

I knew we would meet again

I began to notice and be alert for her comings and goings

She was easy to spot

Devoid of femininity

Nearly transparent in nature


Her body a void

Dressing as a slacker social climber

Expensive jeans

made by poor souls in Bangladesh no doubt

The Designer Look that lacks originality

She appears to be his twin

A mirror image of him 


As the seasons change, she creates a perch in the shop

A table by the window for her phone, Ipad and coffee

Trying to look earnest and important

She is a user of men

Flaunting her wiles for her own gain

Acting helpless while they lick her feet

I cannot warn them

I can only watch

Be careful my boy says

Keep quiet 

Those behind the counter are trained to smile

but are aware of her guile


Her mission with me is incomplete

I am replete with stellar intuition

and spiritual revelation

I can handle any situation

My grace and style help me walk the mile

She hasn’t been around in a long, long while

Being in the Distance

Credit: www.lululemon.com

I smelled the rain before I saw it

Butter in the air

The roads were still dry after yesterday’s Spring baking

 A welcome sign then after Winter‘s marathon of cold

As I neared the pond, I could hear the first drops’ pings hit the leaves

Too late to turn back and I never would anyway

By mile 1 the roads were already glistening

I was stiff and moving slow

but not really thinking of  when I would end this march into my daily reverie

Warming up the mind occurs at mile 2

When the bell tower was reached, I turned to hear a friendly beep

My white truck clad neighbor

An incentive to go further than planned

The rain drops seemed to miss me

as I descended the long hill

and turned left on the only flats I swear exist in this town

My cares and worries from yesterday fell to the pavement

melting with the sky’s happy tears

My Sunday expedition reminds me of why I lift my feet

take in my surroundings

watch my world change minute to minute

I take stock and notice with all of my senses

I seem to float on the next mile’s ascent

This town is full of hills

A runner’s speed work in disguise

I realize the rain has picked up but I am barely wet

This is a good place to be


To not worry about what’s coming next, to just keep moving forward


Credit: wildgoddesslife.com

   They may not know Her

But she knows their thoughts

She senses their neediness

their desires

the impulse to share their story

-a piece of  themselves 

She does not judge 

She  feels their pain

The stain

of  their indignities and indiscretions

their joys and sorrows

When She walks down the street

a sea of people part

nearly bowing in reverence

to Her very presence

They cannot help themselves

They yearn to touch Her

Her very being is an illumination

a soft glowing beacon

Her attention is discreet

The slightest of touches 

temper their souls

surrounding them

in a healing blue light

She is a weaver

a Tantra  goddess melding together

the human and divine

A starry  messenger

 A natural-born remedy

A harbinger of peace if only for a whisper of time


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fwf kellie elmore badge

Not sure where I got this from to be honest. Thanks once again to Kellie Elmore for taking me to a place and space I never expected to go!  Plus the added bonus of adding Poem #12 to WordPress’ challenge!

Namaste’ my friends!







A Spring Namaste’

Credit:  peacesymbol.org

Daybreak, a new illumination

Night whispers goodbye

as Venus lights the sky

My celestial companion kissing my window

                          I breathe

Seeking my own inner radiance

before the day’s illusions break the spell

The scenery is losing its bleakness

The tough alloy of the dead season

surrendering to the still fragile newborn

I taste the softness of the new dawn

The air a crisp green apple

My breath white and warm

with the rhythm of my feet

The old beech that holds the bend

is surrounded in a  yellow glow

My aching body is grateful in its movements

Each step a stretch and release

The coyotes call heard, but not seen

Fox and deer leave their traces invisible, but present

Do they watch me as I forge my morning path? 

My thoughts wander much like me

Familiar with the way

Creating my own inner landscape

as I enter a new day