Category: reading/writing
-
tercet sun
Chilly dawn at water’s edge Anole hides in bush Waiting on the sun Suction toes hold it Hanging on the underside of a leaf You gather dead limbs Add them to your burn pile For cooler nights to come You study a preliminary translation For ‘Ode of the Dove’ Sip cold tea Wish you were…
-
Night’s curtain
at night you write poems with ink of light etching ancient truths on night’s curtain the white hot pen does not sear your fingers in the morning words melt away in sunlight you try to remember what is written a bright stylus pressing against the night your only memory 8-9-25
-
Waiting
beyond the door of our house I sit in the shade on my right a small table, a bottle of water, a notebook, a book of poetry, a book of prayers bright green moss cushions my feet birds call from the woods the Tourettes hum of distant traffic palms turned skyward I’m waiting for healing…
-
Reading Adam Heschel
lack of information will not destroy us we have enough information rather the lack of kindness will but a willingness to accept the middle path can save us all 7-11-25
-
A found poem
Despite Gravity Soaring The World Is Green Again Spring Watching the Small Sky Colored Butterflies Butterflies The Way to Jesus (listing of poems in the Table of Contents, Section IV, Despite Gravity by Marjory Heath Wentworth) 4-11-25
-
Crescent moon
you waited for a full moon to be inspired unaware the moon is resting in the shade there is no better time than now 4-11-25
-
The reader
Because I read the King James version of the Bible, I learned the misogyny of Paul could imitate the truth and sound beautiful on the tongue. Because I read Peter Matthiessen, I learned the truth is hidden in the narrative. Because I read Homer, I learned every hero has an Achilles heel and a dog…
-
Fourteen lines
Poem written for a workshop I host; the prompt was Nature: Because I refuse to count my beats And play with rhyming schemes These fourteen lines will never be A fucking sonnet nature poem Carolina wren song ascends Clear notes welcome in the day Dew sparkles during morning prayer Soon it may become ice crystal…
My husband's poetry 