Poem: On Waking



a butterfly plucked

from flight by a

4-eyed entomologist

tacked and hung forever



askew and filled with lead

pumped dry from

sleepless climbs through endless starts

with dry breath and thick lips


swollen marbles unseeing

remembering lilting dreams


tears dried from cracked blinks


beneath fathoms of murky sea

bubbles squeezed nitrogen pop

as spiny creatures swim

too close


chipped down to pebbles

swallowed by a bird

it beating too fast

in her chest


to the slab

by the nightly joy ride

that crashed upside down

leaving the driver


with the seat belt

still on




The Watchful Eye


I kiss my hand to the moon
Watching over souls
So far from me
Shedding strawberry light
After the longest weary day

They come nonstop
Their limbs askew
The victims of war
No place of peace
Dying in fear

But the brave persist!
To care for these torn
Those sworn to heal
Though they have no supplies
They stay
And touch
And do what they can
And watch their comrades die

It is their oath that keeps them
Some remember it still
As the moon looks down
With Her watchful eye
And I look back
Knowing there is good yet
In the world



For those of you who regularly following my blog and have been wondering and care, I saw the orthopedic doctor today about the tear in my rotator cuff. He showed me the MRI pictures and it is a  pretty decent injury.


He had me do some movement with my arm and saw my pain level and mobility. Luckily I have been an athlete for so long because I have good musculature around the joint to compensate. Plus I’m stubborn and tolerate pain well.

So he said for now I can get away with a cortisone shot to decrease the inflammation, which is causing the pain. Plus he gave me some exercises to continue strengthening the arm. He also told me what not to do which is just as important. Guess I’ll never be a swimmer again. Unless I get the surgery.

And they’ll be no doubt that I will know if it tears completely because then the pain will be excruciating and I won’t have use of the arm. Ok, I get it, no lifting heavy objects.

Funny, being an athlete probably hurt me in the long run too, causing a lot of the injuries to the arm. But it has protected me too. This is somehow ironic.

But I feel like I’ve hit the jackpot for now and won’t be laid up for months! And in the meantime I’m working on becoming ambidextrous!




I woke up missing a feeling, that of touch — the beautiful sensation bestowed upon us by nature. Our skin and hands are amazing gifts that when use them to feel the world in a sensitive and caring way, it’s a magical thing.


So on my walk I reached out to the world around me. It’s texture rested in my hand. Lifetime of standing rooted long before me, we shared a moment in the morning warmth.


My hand held color a painter would be hard pressed to paint. Pulling spectrum of light to create such sweetness its innocence smiled shyly.


I held coarsely draped strands of vines so like a horse’s tail, bringing back memories of days gone by of mares and ponies. All in our hand’s memories.


A rest on the picket fence. Not the one longed for around the perfect home that never came… No, just on the daily walk, long and straight, where squirrels scamper and vines grow.


And hands that love…


And love…


And love…

So use your precious gifts, our special tools, these feeling fingered features to touch someone you love today, human or furry.  Or even shake hands with a stranger–for passing on that you care through a touch is a language we all understand.


Natural Cycles

This may get a bit down and dirty–and also personal, so if you’re light of heart, read no further.

Recently I had my yearly physical. My doctor is great and does no more than she needs to do. She told me that there are new studies about PAP exams that they don’t need to be done as often as they used to think (once a year). Now the new science is saying more like every five years, if you’ve had clean ones in the past.

This has been the case with me, but there was some other factors so she and I both agreed that maybe it would still be prudent to do this particular exam. Oh joy! The one thing every woman loves, especially one at my advanced age.

Many of you in your late 50’s and through menopause, and all of you who have put your legs in those stirrups, know the drill. It’s not a pleasant experience. It’s not when you’re young, and it’s most definitely not when you’re older. But it particularly shocked me just HOW unpleasant it was for me.

Let’s back up. As many of you following my blog over the last years know, I’ve had my relationships ups and downs. And now, there is no such thing in my life anymore, and hasn’t been for some two years or so. I am single by choice now, and quite happy. It has left my mind, spirit AND body quite happily alone.

So when some strange object began boldly going where no man had gone before (well in a long time anyway), let’s just say, I knew I had reached the stage of crone. My doctor had to speak to me as though I was a child getting their first shot: it’s OK, I’m almost done, I’m sorry….I know it hurts… Why yes, it did indeed.

Needless to say, I was quite shocked and felt almost betrayed by my body–once so lush, open and giving. It made me think.

Most of the men I had dated in the last years had suffered their own ‘issues’ when it came to  sex, performance and their own bodies. They often too felt betrayed, upset and angry. Sometimes this would be turned toward me, often toward themselves, but always the relationships would end because of these debacles.

As much as I tried to embrace and accept these changes in our aging bodies, and try to find someone who could move onto the ‘next stage in life’–it never happened.

It struck me today that our natural cycles should allow us to embrace our metamorphosing selves. This should be a time of celebration and not anger and fear. While I am losing parts of my physical self, I am gaining so many wonderful parts like wisdom and a sense of self I never had before in life.

Such drive seems to overwhelm the men I have met so that they couldn’t move beyond it to the other significant and beautiful qualities that embodied the people they were inside. Instead it was that old sense of performance and need that drove them and hammered each relationship into dust.

I’m sure there are wonderful relationships and marriages where the two have been together for many years that  got them through these changes together. They adapt, accept and blossom together. It must be lovely. I was not that fortunate, but this is how it was meant to be.

So I continue to honor myself and my aging body. I take care of it the best I can and will gently pass through every stage with joy and grace, continuing to be grateful for each day I am here.