I walk by twisted sister, favorite tree—
two branches intertwined, dancing

cherry that almost died, dwindled,
somehow still survives like I survive,

holding leash, fourth generation dog
after passing house of mom whose son

left the earth while mine still breathes
each step reminder how quickly years

pass when hours stretch, elasticity of time
a concept pondered, recorded in songs

playing in my mind, no need to cue
recording imprinted on my soul, I

can sing the lyrics and hum melody
interrupting sleep, underscoring poems

I write in my head when I’m writing,
leaving me lonely when I’m not—

bored, restless hours wasted I claim,
returning to the page where I belong

Thoughts round the manic corner
twisting toward anger

forbidden words roiling
lookin to pop like a cast iron skillet

of “shoulds” and a mess of “nos”
keeping the native tongue quiet

like a good little girl, invasive
thoughts just beneath the surface

Let her rip, Sis!

therapist threw me

Limestone

I stand upon a beach,

Gone three hundred million years ago,

I can’t imagine water covering,

The mountains that I know.

But I see the ledge of limestone,

With the sandstone overlay,

And I see the fossilized shells,

The remains of those days.

Bits of ancient coral,

And crinoids in rounds,

With little globs of sponges,

Among the stones that I have found.

Shelves and reefs of brachiopods,

Lie scattered all around,

So many pressed and massed into stone,

Just waiting to be found.

And I think of Kentucky,

And all we’re known for,

And much of it we wouldn’t have,

Without this ancient shore.

The stone which I know tread,

And use upon my farm,

Are what makes this state who we are,

And gives our state its charm.

Could we produce such horses,

Without our limestone to strengthen bone?

The minerals leaching into the soil,

Doesn’t just help them alone.

The largest grower of cattle,

On the Mississippi’s eastern side,

They grow to be fat and fit,

Because of ancient tides.

The Bourbon that we’re known for,

Would not taste near so sweet,

Without limestone springs,

Sweetened by the stones beneath my feet.

Think of our karst topography,

Our great and wondrous caves,

Lying hidden underneath the land,

Where the thick growing bluegrass waves.

As much as I love Kentucky,

Our magical mystical state,

I’m reminded it’s those ancient seas,

That determined for us our fate.

So, here’s to the lowly brachiopod,

The crinoid and trilobite,

All those long gone and their long gone sea,

That produced such a lovely sight.

why trouble yourself with scouting ahead,
searching for danger
when you always land feet first

waltzing through shadows,
tiptoeing amongst gentry
with a smile on her face and twinkle in her eye
pickpocketing secrets as she goes

A pretty neat trick, I say,
this granddaughter
without ever having kids,
and yes, she looks like me,
no curls on her mother’s side
nor in my husband’s family,
father to her dad.
When I was three,
as she is now,
I’d say, when asked,
My mommy made them.
Today, I twirl her ringlets
and smile.

In a time before time, a giant crater formed in the ground

then crumbled, leaving a high bluff carved along a creek.

The Great Serpent, feeling Earth move, followed pathways

underground to a cave beside the creek then slithered to the top.

The Day was hot but not too hot; Mother Earth held its

warmth within her belly, heating the soil enough to make

the Great Serpent so drowsy he fell asleep. Birds could not

rouse him from his slumber as Sun slipped behind the earth.

Moon sang a lullaby as Stars rose into Sky and Serpent dreamed

of the mighty explosion that had created the hole and the bluff.

He lay sleeping for so long, the form of his body impressed Earth

with the its perfection so she kept it after he slid away.

When People began roaming Earth and found Serpent’s shape

embedded on the bluff, they filled it with rock and soil to mold

into the shape of snake to visit and to pray and sing and dance,

where Sun, Moon and Stars rose among the Serpent’s coils.

Many years followed with first People never forgetting their love

of Serpent until all those who remembered were gone, their ways

forgotten. People who came later stumbled across the effigy but

lacked imagination to explain it, calling it an unresolved enigma.

But Serpent still remembers when People loved him as well as

Earth and Sun, Moon and Stars. In the depth of night, he sings a

mournful lullaby about the time before time when all creation

celebrated the wonder of life and the miracle of its existence.

before the last station, where all passengers
are kindly requested to exit the train, will you
have checked your phone every 42 seconds,
will you have scrolled your thumb to a shine?
will you have sat next to a nurse and
looked at people around you:
their shoes, their buttons – or worse?
will you have mistaken your own reflection
for luggage left by somebody else?
will you have thought of ordering sushi
and talked yourself out of pretense?
will you have played with your zipper,
your wedding ring,
or the frayed cuff of your sleeve?
will you have listened to half a drum solo
or abandoned half a belief?

An act of kindness is
a contagious thing.
A pandemic will scour the world with unflinching change,
but it needn’t be an ugly thing.

Blurred eyes from warm tears

Texting you the whole way home

Never have I ever

Had a friend quite like you

The glimpse of sun in the morning

The tightness in your throat before you laugh

The satisfaction of laying down after a long day

Holding on to you

Like you’re a lifeline

Take me as I am

Just like I take you as you are