The frog’s song

swells in puddlemelt.


Earth is drinking.

Birds stir and the world

begins building its promise.

All is not done yet.

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The Mare – while looking over old photos for some to illustrate existing poems, I found a photo that inspired me to write a new poem! It’s short, but evokes the moment.

The Mare

There’s a mare there

in the meadow,

down in the grass.

Warm in a sunny place.



Free from saddle.

Alone in clover.

All satin and lace.

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Moonflowers – a short poem. All the photographs used to illustrate my poems are my own. The photos were not my inspiration, but I chose them from pictures I’ve taken over the years because they illustate the image or sentiment expressed.


Pale and purple hearts

twine together under the moon

like faint hopes firmly rooted.

Tentative tendrils of shy passion

weave a vital tune.

The quiet deep song seeps slowly

from their hearts

and kisses the ghostly bloom.

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Stargazer. We all have flashes of clarity; this poem represents one of those moments.


She’s the stargazer—

wonder-eyed flower child.

Discord doesn’t faze her.

In it she sees the contrast

of our potential harmony.

Starlike, her laser glance

penetrates deceit,

and from defeat

she gathers starflowers of awareness

to scatter at our feet.

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Ocean Home, a poem inspired by a stay on the Outer Banks of North Carolina

Ocean Home

The erratic motion

of the waves in the ocean

creates an hypnotic urge;

a shadowed remembrance

of things primeval

in the sound of the thunder

of the ebb and the surge.

I’m a stone.

What a notion!

I lie on the sand,

warmed through by the sun.

I shine like a gem

in my layer of lotion

on the sand by the ocean.

In the swell of the surf

I am buoyant, alive.

I am of creation

a silver vibration.

I inflate with

the fluid respiration

of my liquid earth.

A continuous billowing

flow of invisible power

lifts me and I rise.

I see the sea

below me.

I live all lives.

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A poem – inspired by nature, remembered and refound thanks to Robert Hartley’s inspired poetry in his book “Mossbackdragon”

Robert’s personal saga, which hi-lights his creative process in writing poetry, reminded me that I once wrote poems of my own, in a period of my life when I had time to meditate regularly (I seem to need time … lots of time … in order to be creative.) I dug through old paperwork and found them; they seems as fresh as ever, so here’s the first one:








Playful happy-love.


Wind whisper.

Rain caress.

Birdsong in the marsh.

Heron wings echo

my heart song.

Fern place,

life-green place

low below the big trees.



Exhale the breeze.


lull me please

in the womb of the world-mother.

Hold me please

in the arms of joy.


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La Torre di Quarate

Mauro, hai chiesto una foto della torre … eccola.

La Torre di Quarate

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We just returned from a long-overdue trip, first passing through England to see our son and his family, including our new grandson. They came with us then, to Italy, to visit friends and family. The trip was far too short, allowing very little time to revisit


view of Florence from Piazzale Micheangelo

everyone and every place dear to our hearts. I took as many photographs as I could, and now I review them, immersing myself in that still-familiar, intriguing landscape. Here are a few of them.

Castellina in Chianti


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Path Beside the James

I finished a new painting! This is always an exciting moment for me. It means I’m satisfied with what I’ve done, and that I can begin something new.

I painted my favorite subject again, the James River, but I threw in an element of experimentation.  In my previous reflections I was tending towards abstraction, but this painting is realist. My experiment lies in the lower right quadrant, where I laid down a patch of thick gel and stippled the left part with an old toothbrush and scratched the right part with a toothpick in long, thin grassy shapes. I then painted over this texture. It gives a very satisfied depth and movement to what could have been a flat uninteresting section of the canvas.

I plan to use texture more often in the future, I like where it’s taking me.

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” Little Helper” – Turtle illustration #5

This snail was one of my favorite illustrations. The grain of the wood works beautifully with the whorls of the shell, and her expression is so silly.

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