The Budding Self

If I could only see myself the way I see my garden…   In its fledgling flax and parched penstemon I see graceful limbs and bold blossoms opening to the desert sun.   In the microscopic thyme that barely survived the winter, I see a brave heart. Kneeling to...

Love Eclipses All

Like lovers attracted by forces beyond their control the sun and moon magnetize.   As they merge, the dusky moon overlaps the persimmon sun— a bite from an apple.   Then darkness— all goes quiet, the robins silent the squirrels still.   Totality.  ...