she's eighteen too soon
my oldest baby, my star
i hope she'll go far



she's eighteen too soon
my oldest baby, my star
i hope she'll go far



i’ll grasp this aspen
framed by its own starry night
when i need some peace

i'll write a haiku
as easy as this damn day
filled with lines. and love.

you will never know
how hard i've tried to earn this.
you can taste the snow.

you can taste blue sky.
it comes in moments, this love.
moments found on slopes.
our symbolic cat
sitting by his empty plate
waiting for his love

always the baker
coming up with concoctions
to sweeten our lives

snow arrived today.
soft, slippery, it snuck in
and brought back this piece:

in the purple night
on our perfect patio
completion beckons.

a small redemption
when the pieces fit in place
so rarely perfect

one day at a time
I’ll win back my little one
(no longer little)

a soft Saturday
to soften life’s hard edges
with kindness and calm
ironic notice
as the words come flooding in
(yet i can’t stop them)

no. i had no plan.
no plan for any of this.
(nor a solution).