like a pregnant mom
i wait for this peony
(bring blossoms, bring hope)

the first bloom beckons
all that is good on this Earth
(even the ants know)
like a pregnant mom
i wait for this peony
(bring blossoms, bring hope)

the first bloom beckons
all that is good on this Earth
(even the ants know)
and from this soil
from blustery spring breezes
good news can blossom

an uncommon mist
wrapped the morning in soft light
before the sun ruled



but blue sky is king
popping up my potatoes
for the love of May

all nine have emerged
and, like the peas, cling to life
brought by sun, water

this wins my heart now
as i fast between each sun
hope rising, falling
until they close this
we might be here every day
(Colorado beach)

humans love water
in all its fake and true forms
(dams, no dams, fresh, salt)

our Friday night lights
makes this feel like our old life
as fresh as sunshine


if i just listen
i can gather up his words
thick as pupusas
in between masa
filled with all that he has lost
yet still hopes to gain
(i cannot fill them.
my love will not be enough.
but now we have time.)
quarantined time
to wait for flowers to grow.
to cook together.
it is a gift, life.
(even when the batter breaks
we learn to make more.)
i have given in
(quiet days, spring sunrises)
one cat at a time


i’m back to haikus
(they suit the whole me better)
they’re written on bikes

the Denver sunshine
wins this quarantined Sunday
for those who listen

it seems so simple
to follow the rules. stay home.
be careful outside.

and at home? snuggle.
love the soft spaces of life.
soft spaces of love.


I’ve made it to the final day of gratitude! The ten last bits of gratitude for the Coronatine.

So grateful for:




Well, we’ve officially made it through what feels like the longest month of our lives. I’m trying really hard here to keep up the positivity!
Ten things I love about you, Coronatine:








