Thirst no more He said
for my cup is always full
and then I knew peace

tongue-tied and awkward
I retreat to bountious
shelves of cotton cloth

resting on a log
he's waiting for Halloween
intricate spider

gnarled, brittle, growing
on a dead trunk, but what is
its purpose? What's mine?

perched like a parrot
on a thick branch, magnolia
pods burst at the seams

furry wild critter
scavenging at dark, looking
for meatloaf, maybe

humidity gone,
winter's bite still weeks away
fall is best of all

as graceful as a
fluttery ballerina,
glory of this day

lime-green petals dipped
in pink; it's October but
orange leaves me cold

in spite of last night's
frosty visitor, petals
brave the sharp bluster

it seems to me that
life is already spooky
enough, isn't it?

Before tonight's frost
turns scarlet to brown, I bid
a quiet good-bye.

Family. It's who
we are, it's why we are and
there's no place like home.

alone can be a
safe place, full of murmurs and
wishes and secrets

interesting, to
think what I'd crop out of my life
and what would remain

Today I met a
plant called milkweed and promptly
fell head over heels

hard to believe that
my firstborn is twenty-two
cherished, goofy son

Bead by bead by bead
Priscilla painstakingly
pleasures the art world

and leaves me drooling

an uneasy wind
blows bleak and belligerant
plumes fray, and roots sway

politicians, with
tongues as sharp as shards of glass
ugly reflected

what I ask of God
rarely matches what He gives
but this is His plan

a ray of sunshine
melts my heart and warms the cold
places and I thaw

what is reflected
as a softer, smudged palette
whispers peace and calm

special treasures to
remind me of Kyoko
always close: my friend

wonderfully painted
an arm swooped from here to there
God's hand. God's eye. Art.