Though there’s been a thaw,

snow hangs on as remnants of

coldness often do.


In Her Own Words

Because my words are too feeble to fully celebrate the life and work of Mary Oliver, I will use her own words from her poem,” Prayer”.  May you dance on, Mary.


May I never not be frisky,

May I never not be risqué.

May my ashes, when you have them, friend,

and give them to the ocean,

leap in the froth of the waves,

still loving movement,

still ready, beyond all else,

to dance for the world.

                                                                           MARY OLIVER

All In Good Time

“It’s blinding me.

Could someone move the sun?” I ask.

Grandkids sigh and roll their eyes.

“We know you think

we can do the impossible, Gaba.

 Relax. This will take a while.”






Nature Whispers

If we let in warmth

and light, frozen minds could thaw

and icy hearts melt.

Informed compassion could flow,

rivers of connection form.


Seasonal Change

Having shed autumn

leaves, trees deck themselves out in

scintillating ice.


At Least For Now

Sitting in silence,

I wait for inspiration 

to come, but after

awhile I’m forced to see

she wants nothing of me.


Where Choice Lies

Outside things are slowed

as the falling snow blankets

the landscape in white.

What we do with the inscape

is completely up to us.