golden hour

My wife is taking pictures again, and the golden hour is upon us – in more ways than one, because at the height of summer it occurs immediately after the kidsā€™ bedtime. She is roaming the acreage of my childhood read full post

peace (four poems)

rainplay

The pit-pat of rain
and little feet,
the splash of a puddle then
like liquid laughter, and
the storm is just another
plaything
to tiny toes.

artesian well

Perhaps
the hole will fill gradually,
as long-filtered rains seep down, … read full post

white space

am I willing
to do nothing
but wait?

to set aside
the notion that
I change things

that my words
change things

that my words
change me

cease striving
be still
know

that I am
only because You are
that … read full post