( Read more... )

I used to think I was an artist.
I used to think I was a writer.
I used to think I was a poet.
Now I call myself a person who makes art,
a person who writes.
I don't even try to write poetry anymore.
I'm not a hiker.
I'm a person who hikes.
I'm not a reader.
I'm a person who reads.
Even when it was my job I knew I never was a jeweler ( Read more... )

a dream ( Read more... )

this year for christmas ( Read more... )

Maybe it was the fresh reminder (yesterday) that John is gone
which reminded me that Dad is gone
and Mom is gone
and I will soon be gone too.
Someone,
a son or daughter,
grandchild,
will be thinking of me someday that way ( Read more... )

What I love about being me
is that it's always me
over all the years.
It's still always me at 2 am,
Alone in the night.
Reading, or crocheting.
Or playing the ukulele now.
Always me.
I abide.

(Can't sleep, my knee hurts, a little tipsy.)

Feeling elated ( Read more... )

Let me count the ways ( Read more... )

Will I ever graduate ( Read more... )

Inspired by a poem that Nancy justapostcard read to me today. I stole her title as my first line. I hope she shares her poem too - it was really good.

Will I break ( Read more... )