for Susan Tweit It is September 15. The sun seems to have hit snooze more often than I did. It is particularly lazy today, and has, perhaps, hesitated at the tree line across the street for hours. Not too subtle a reminder, let me tell you, that days are getting shorter, and worse yet, there... Continue Reading →
Everything sings pink this morning where has August gone? Sunflowers light the sky long after sunset summer’s last song Autumn’s chill settles softly now across my pillow and chin September sits so patiently I’ll bring the heavy quilt in.
As we approach the fiftieth anniversary of the '67 Detroit Race Riots, I thought I would share a short story set in Detroit at that time. "This is the end, beautiful friendThis is the end, my only friend, the end."*(Jim Morrison) Perfect Sanctuary I stopped telling the truth to our parish priests in 1967, the... Continue Reading →
When I was pregnant with my girls, and not knowing they were girls, I hoped they would be. Girls. For one reason. I thought it would be easier to raise female feminists than to raise male feminists. That's my truth. Not proud. Just is. I wasn’t up to what I believed would be too difficult... Continue Reading →
Throw Rugs Like insurance they seem to cover so little no matter how big or ornate they lay; dust bunnies hover about, forever waiting for cleaning rolling sweeping it under. They collect a bit of the day’s dirt or a boot’s drips, the remnants of a monsoon or blizzard soaked into an intricate Mexican print... Continue Reading →
I didn't know I was doing it until I had done it. It's like going on a new hike, a bit of a mystery. You leave the trail head with a little trepidation. Can I do this? You've looked at the map. It makes sense. (Always a worry.) You wonder how steep the climbs will... Continue Reading →
Some days, when I sit for my morning scribble, I read instead, go through pages, upon pages, of yesterdays' scribbles, and I highlight interesting phrases, words, sentences. Then I randomly string them together, a puzzling, a mending, a review. And, it's fun to see what happens. Just like watching Riana when she would play with... Continue Reading →
It is the first day of summer and my house in Flagstaff is up for sale. After six months of packing and repairing and painting and cleaning and arranging and rearranging. After seventeen wonderful years. It is now squeezed into eight hundred characters and thirty-eight photos. All that life and love we put into that... Continue Reading →
It is Flag Day, and I am playing hookie. There is absolutely no connection. I am merely elated (odd juxtaposition of words) to have a quiet morning alone in my temporary home in Sedona, which is a rare thing these days because I spend my weekends at my permanent home in Flagstaff, thus, I have... Continue Reading →
The dark air has pinned me warm sheets like batter nothing moves but the dog he hears my eyes open his nose meets mine on the edge of my crumpled bed 'what's next?' he wonders me too. The big questions take hold why now, I'm tired, they insist on answers immediate accurate, polished. I won't look, I won't.... Continue Reading →
pocket poet 