Though life abounds with blossoms bright,
fed and watered, nurtured right;
And trees along the river bank,
strengthened so, display their might,
Saguaro, YOU surprise me most
and give the desert dwellers hope.

Alone, you stand in arid sands
without your roots in greener lands,
yet strong and tall and bright, command
my respect and awe.

Deep inside your prickly skin,
you've stored life's sunshine deep within;
Though scarce the raindrops from the sky,
you've captured each and treasured, "MY!"
If I could be like you, what heights I would achieve.
And revel in acceptance that, like you,
I'm planted right where I should be.

The Winter Fairy danced last night;
Her Opalescence fell light
upon the trees, now shimmering bright--
in the sunshine, glitter white.

And sugar-paper cut-out trees
Shower snow dust in the breeze
While children, snow up to their knees,
Gather on the village Green.

They trod up hills through the countryside
To find the fastest thrilling ride,
While angels watch on the side lines
Transcendent stamps of winter time

Mean girls wear the latest styles
Have fake smiles
Gossip, compare
Sow division, despair

Their gardens grow in shadowy places
Behind walls, in hidden spaces
Their nectar has a bitter taste
But flies are not discerning

They swallow like drunks, cheap wine
Sour acid, their own sublime
Gluttons crying “More and more!”
Rise up in a pungent cloud
And acid rain comes pouring down.

The vile liquid which they spread--
Their sustenance, their daily bread—
On filthy lips, feeds new seed heads.

So their gardens will always grow,
Filled with thorns and jagged rows
And roots running and deep and long and strong,
In the dark, where they belong.

And now upon that pillow lay
all that remains of the tragic day.
Reduced to a box, his ashes stay

Wrapped up in a blanket
given at birth.
Will anyone know how much he was worth?

I want the world to know!
I remember--I remember well;
So my sweet brother, your life I'll tell.

To try to forget a loss so great,
they swept up reminders of the terrible day
and all the days that had gone before.
They just shut the door,
as if you'd never been.
Gone were the photos.
Where are the toys?
Can't we even remember the JOY?

I lay beside your box
before we take you to the sea.
For now... you are here with me.
Your scent deep inside this blanket sweet.
Will you stay, if I keep it neat?
Or like memories, will you fade away?

The years have passed and I am old but still I wonder where you are.
Then suddenly I see you walking by--the grown man you should have been-- tall and handsome,
blonde and bright,
just like my own two boys.
And I hold them close.

I’m a tube of toothpaste
With the bottom rolled up tight
And every last bit of peppermint’s
Squeezed out right.
Twisted, empty, crinkled,
Flat out on the windowsill
Minty fumes residual.

It’s just spackle.
Cracks start
And you keep cleaning it out
And filling it up
With new brands
But it cracks again
Because it’s just spackle
And so it’s gonna crack
Because the house shifts
When it rains
When it blows
In the sun
Nothing stays the same
So spackle cracks
And that hole
Needs filling.
I’m tired of brands;
Seems there ought to
Be a Carpenter
Who’ll fix the holes
For good.

I’ll always think the best of you
I won’t assume the worst
No matter what the circumstance
No matter what the hurt.
Until I’ve walked a mile in your shoes
Until you’ve walked in mine
Jumping to conclusions in just a waste of time.

Rumours fly like butterflies
Landing gracefully
Bringing honey on their tender lips so innocently;
But until I’ve come to you my friend
And sought to understand,
I won’t believe a word they say because
Truth ain’t second-hand.

We observe but do not see
The possibilities.
We only see through coloured lenses of our own reality.
I don’t know what’s in your heart
You don’t know what’s in mine
So let’s leave the temptation
Of judging behind.

I didn’t mean to hurt you
What you read, wasn’t what I meant.
Words were taken out of the context
Of my heart’s intent.
So, come walk with me my friend.
Let’s try to talk it out
‘cause wouldn’t life be sweeter with the
Benefit of doubt?

The benefit of doubt my friend,
That’s what I’m giving you
The benefit of doubt
Can’t see it working any other way.

I wonder if trees feel pain when asked to accept a season's passed?
Or if the path trodden with footprints side by side, grieves when only one returns.
Leaves drop, but I hear no crying.
Rain falls, but puddles call the children near.
I'd like to be a tree whose branches bend with the turning winds
Or the muddy trail full of splashy laughter and grins
But it's Winter and the wind of change cuts, icy blades, and my tender roots are battered and torn.
So I will wait until Spring arrives, and with her Hope.
She will dry my tears and shake off the dust.
Show me beauty I can love and trust.
She will fill my baskets to the rim.
And heal my heart deep within.

A friend came over, asked me how I was,
There was no time to answer, because
She told me what she thought.
So I acquiesced and fell into line,
Sang her the blues in 12 bar time.

I didn't know something was wrong with me
Thought it was only PMT
Or a case of fatigue.
But no apparently I’m depressed,
Need to be more like Jesus

Her diagnosis brought all my thanksgiving
As she scanned my life, judged all my living
She always knows better, and she tells me how.
Hope she comes again; I feel so much better now.

There’s nothing I can say

You’ll just take it the wrong way.

It’s been like this since before we met

You determined who I was, and the mould was set.



I walked into your expectations,

The canvas prearranged,

Painted me in colours dark

Your heart the gauge.



Were the canvas fresh and clean,

Another artist might have seen

to let the paint fall where it might,

enjoy the image,

love-- chiarascuro’s light.



So think what you want

See the world through those eyes

I can’t do this anymore

Lord knows I’ve tried.



I’ve tried scratching off the layers you painted on that screen

I’m not that image you’ve painted of me,

But I realise now it’s in the artist’s hand;

His heart creates what’s on that stand.

Gifts from heaven,
the falling leaves.
A golden carpet,
as trees in gracious abandon
unfold in glorious display
a sunlit royal welcome.
Yellow bursts of amber
glistening dew-kissed
droplets of love.