Summer’s gone, Winter’s turn,
Sunshine fleeting, nights get long.
In stillness, a heart beating
Listens for dawn’s sweet song.
Curled up by the fire’s light,
Easily burned, there’s pain.
Endlessly, time marches on
Nothing stays the same.
Night unrolls glittering wares,
A blanket, specially made.
Pinpricks of hope pierce the dark
Until even darkness fades.
At last, fleeting at first,
The melody gets strong.
So familiar, you realize
You were singing all along.

A Winter Song

Poetry, Writing

Stage Left

Poetry, Writing

You don’t define me,

Confine me,

Fold up my hopes

And press my dreams

So they fit into your box.

Neat lines aren’t my song.

Each judgment a nail

Sealing my coffin,

And my mouth,

You hope.

But I was made for more,

Much more.

more hoping

more dreaming

more doing

As I open my sails

and cast for the

Great Unknown,

The adventure of life abundant,

Wind at my back,

Joy filling my lungs,

I laugh freely

That you ever thought

I was meant a bit part,

Stage left,

As you stole the show.

Taste & See

Faith & Spirituality, Poetry, Writing


Setting forth in the direction He’s called,

Ready to dance among the stars.

The weight of the world lifts at last

As I follow with my whole heart.

Feel the sunshine on your hair, girl?

Those raindrops on your tongue?

Smell the sweet, cool air of mountains?

Sand tickling toes as you run?

Traveling this road of promise,

Paved with only the greatest of loves,

I feel and taste and smell and see

The goodness of my Father above.


Girl Power, Poetry, Writing

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The weight of her in my arms,

unchanged by time.

The smell of her

sweet, musky joy so pure.

Traces of the baby she was play across a woman’s face.

The full, ebullient round of my love,

the swell of heart,

it’s almost too much to bear.

Yet we endure

in this dance,

She as my girl

and I as her mama,

holding fast to her hand.

The Goodness of Being Small

Faith & Spirituality, Poetry, Writing

there’s a goodness in small,

a stature of humble bowing

in dependence outside of self,


I am not mountain,

nor am I sea, 

despite all my striving,

all I claim to be.

for the One who planted mountain

poured out the sea

painting His glory 

for all to see.

and here in my smallness,

my eyes look to mountain 

and waves breaking for shore,

delighting in

each grand reminder 

from my Father above

how tall

how wide

how deep 

is His love.


I don’t want some online friends or acquaintances or followers,
who see my best side when I want them to,
the girl I wish I was.
I want to have real friends,
friends who are brave and let it get messy.
Real friends bare their souls, and share clothes.
Weaving stories, sometimes over wine.
They don’t judge if you act crazy or cry ugly.
They do life with.
I want those friends.
Who not only pick up the pieces,
but come alongside with the glue.
Friends who don’t just love me anyway,
but love me because. 
Girl Power, Poetry, Random Musings, Writing