Song Of Silence

As we walk together

down this winding country road,

the space between us

is filled, not with talk, but with

a quiet understanding,

a silence reflected

In the unmoving water

of the green-edge pond .

From above, a nearby bird 

sings of our silence.


In Process

With a touch of yellow,

a splash of orange,

a bit of red,

Autumn prepares

a colorful cape 

for trees to wear

before the coming 

gray of winter.


The Call Of Home

Off a curving country road

a round house sits,


by a softly curving porch.

In the gray mist

a mourning dove coos,

offering comfort

in curves and gray.


Fall Tonic

A bracing blend

of cool breeze

and bright sunlight –

trees shiver

with delight.



Lying there 

on the crisp white sheet,

the poem silently pleads,

“Come fill me with your breath.

I’m lying here, alone, unread.”


The patience of ordinary things.

Thought you would enjoy this poem by Pat Schneider posted at


It is a kind of love, is it not?
How the cup holds the tea,
How the chair stands sturdy and foursquare,
How the floor receives the bottoms of shoes
Or toes. How soles of feet know
Where they’re supposed to be.
I’ve been thinking about the patience
Of ordinary things, how clothes
Wait respectfully in closets
And soap dries quietly in the dish,
And towels drink the wet
From the skin of the back.
And the lovely repetition of stairs.
And what is more generous than a window?

“The Patience of Ordinary Things” by Pat Schneider
Art: Tori Avey

Text and image source: _/_Peggy @ ECUMENICUS

View original post

Gentle Flirtation

The morning grass greets me

with a thousand winks.

I smile and wink back.