No one knows

Posted on Monday, July 1, 2019

Last night I heard someone talk about my past. Very intriguing to see ourselves through someone's eyes. Someone who doesn't know me but think he does. Our pasts always make sense. Even the errors. Even the things and people we swear they were mistakes. Life has always reason, isn't that what the song says? Anyway, I love to see old people dancing under the stars. Summer has begun. The season of uncovered secrets and new misteries is upon us. Let's dress in cloaks and bathe in sand and sun potions. No one knows were life can take one.

Because we all just need to be ourselves

Posted on Thursday, January 3, 2019

And it's a mistake when we are not.

Posted on Saturday, December 15, 2018

Recipe #1

Posted on Thursday, October 18, 2018

by Naomi Shihab Nye

We made it from the ground-up corn in the old back pasture.

Pinched a scent of night jasmine billowing off the fence,
popped it right in.
That frog song wanting nothing but echo?
We used that.
Stirred it widely. Noticed the clouds while stirring.
Called upon our ancient great aunts and their long slow eyes
of summer. Dropped in their names.
Added a mint leaf now and then
to hearten the broth. Added a note of cheer and worry.
Orange butterfly between the claps of thunder?
Perfect. And once we had it,
had smelled and tasted the fragrant syrup,
placing the pan on a back burner for keeping,
the sorrow lifted in small ways.
We boiled down the lies in another pan till they disappeared.
We washed that pan.

*Beautiful poem shared by Joanna Colbert from on her latest newsletter.

Cherry cranberry pie

Posted on Monday, June 25, 2018

I kept a secret.
A secret that was not mine to keep.
I rolled it up under my sleeve
And when I got home
Like an old man hides his money
So did I. I've picked up the mattress
And kept the secret on my bed

under me

Do you keep secrets on your bed?
Do you lay there pretending
there is no Treasure
When indeed
There is gold in the bedroom
And you're not sure how much your gold
Can buy
But you hope and cross your fingers
It will buy you a ticket to heaven
And a cherry cranberry pie.

Eaten on the doorstep
Under blue sky

A cherry cranberry pie

A secret is never not a lie
Cherry Cranberry pie

Poem after tonight's storm

Posted on Sunday, June 18, 2017

Must the man be who he is?
Must the man loose all before he changes?
Only the vain,
Only the vain, my dear.

A firefly passes by a couple,
The night remains the same
Everything is different.

We do nothing, and nothing we do,
The gods write beautiful stories,
We must live,
Live we must, my dear.

Because there will always be something that amazes you.
Love we do. Love is always offered.

Must the man be who he is?
Yes, that is the path.
Must the man loose all before he changes?

I cannot answer for that is not my story.
I'm just mesmerized by the firefly he brought with him.

And then it rained.
And we remained silent as the old night.

The night is so old and warm, sweet grandmother night, she hold me until I fell asleep.

Love is offered. Life is offered. We conquer only ourselves.

Not to be forgotten

Posted on

Low quality phone pics, big memories