Friday, November 10, 2023

What Swirls in the Air?

Online writing salon this morning. Prompt #1 was "What Swirls in the Air?"

What Swirls in the Air


I am warm as I watch

trees and bushes shake in the wind

Birds glide high to low

I see their wings move

up and down

as they rise again.

High, low, glide, flap.

I watch as

a piece of paper 

jumps across the grass.

I watch

orange and yellow leaves swirl, 

settle on the ground,

Shiver and dance

when a gust of wind catches them

just right.

I can't see the air but I know it is there.


I feel wind beat against my face

My eyes blink,


I taste dust

in my mouth


I inhale air

cold and crisp in my nostrils

I blow my breath out through my mouth

Inhale, exhale,

Puff up,

Blow it out.

This is how I live.

I chase leaves,

I chase life,

I walk a path to see

the wind create ripples in the water.




I am alive.

Where to next?

 Prompt: Picture of a dirt bike parked next to a trail. Caption was "Where to next?"

Where to next?

Where to next?

It's a good question,

a reasonable question,

asked by someone who knows me well,

They know I won't stay rooted for more than a few years.

I used to stay longer

But, well, I'm older,

I no longer have the luxury of overstaying

a bit 

just because I can.

I don't have

enough years left.

Where to next?

I'm not sure,

I sometimes think about it

But I know it isn't time.

Where or when?

It's usually a feeling 

that decides it's time

and searches for a place.

And then

an opportunity presents itself

and I'm afraid that if I let it pass me by

It won't come back again.

That's not an unreasonable fear.

I was stationary for too many years.

It was my choice

and maybe not so much my choice.


My family.

A husband, 


a house we called a home.

The question of where to next

wasn't about a physical place,


It was a question for the future,

a question I couldn't answer

because it wasn't the right time.

A question I asked myself

when I was in a bad place.

Now I ask the same question

because I am in a good place.

Where to next?

Sunday, October 29, 2023

Farewell (when will it end)

 I'm not sure this is done, but I needed to let it out.


enough to fill a river flowing to the sea.


of grief and fear.

Will the crying ever end?


the harvest moon turns from orange to white


I picture your dancing shadow 

  in the moonlight.


bullets and bombs


smoke can't muffle the screams

of people caught in the middle.


  for the dead


  for the wounded


  it will end


  the world will not

  have to weep again.

Young, old

an ordinary day

Shredded by shrapnel.

they fall.


Cowards giving orders

Cheering for death,

Retaliation and revenge

Over and over again.








The sun sets

The moon rises

Life goes on as usual

Everywhere but there.

Sunday, October 15, 2023

These Times

I'm not sure where this one will go once I start editing, but here is the raw unedited version.

Fear and resignation

It gets worse each time

More extreme

More dangerous

More, more, more

When will it blow us up

Oblivion and rebuttal

Retreated into cocoons

Too many, 

Too late,

Too fearful or tired

To speak up.

They cry every day

About the safety of loved ones

who are forced to choose

Love of country

Love of family

Love of life.

Love or hate.

Everyone sees the same sun

Sees the same moon,

See stars and constellations at night.

Some see smoke and ash

Hear sirens and bombs

Hide in safe rooms

Flee in fear hoping to return


Fear and resignation

Disappointment and hope

Prayers and guns.

Pray for peace

Pray the war will be short

Pray their side will be victorious.

Can both sides win?


I saw a poem by Rumi entitled "The truth within us", and a couple of poems tumbled out of my fingers and onto the screen.


The truth is within us,

I read that

in a poem.

The truth is within you,

I've seen that too.

Interpret both however you want




The truth will set you free.

The truth is in your heart.

Buy the truth and don't sell it.

Gospel, Psalm, Proverb.

Mercy and truth.

Truth and compassion.


facts proven true.

By who?


Her words were like poetry,

Free form phrases

Occasionally rhyming,

Words in rhythm,

An outlet,

An invitation,

Her truth.