OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAI once thought I deserved the love
of captives bound by obligations and guilt
I demanded bounties from brothers and sons
husbands and fathers
amid the circle of women who chant promises
of ancient legacies conceived in vaults of wombs

But I know now
that the lifelines that weave
the tapestry I have become in this time and place
are ephemeral shadows and faint fingerprints
dusted by starlight to shimmer in Pacific waves
pulsing to the cadence of the Universe

A thread of a whisper
The feather touches of friends long forgotten
Random memories of lives I have led
or perhaps imagined
Dreams of worlds real and alternate
where strangers call me friend

Woman, it is time.


Husband, it is time.
He walks ahead of my trudging animal;
his shoulders slump a bit
from the landing of my words.

The rope slackens when he stops.  He asks,
“Are you sure?”
At my nod, he points
“Just ahead” to torches along the outskirts.

Innkeeper, it is time.
I watch him speak to the old hunched man;
his hands reach for coins
to place in eager wrinkled palms.

He returns at my breath hitch.  He says,
“The manger.”
As I nod, he wraps
“Soon, warmth” a blanket around my shoulders.

Mother, it is time.
I crouch in the posture of birth,
my belly hardens a final time to deliver
the promise by Gabriel.

I hear the cry.  Joseph says,
“A man child.”
In my nod, he whispers,
“Emmanuel” a cloth around the baby.

This is a re-posting of something I wrote a few years ago.  Merry Christmas!



The Migration of Mosses and Lichens

Lichens and Moss

It is imperceptible to the human eye
the patient glacial migration
of the simplest of creatures
these mosses and lichens

To which we pay no mind

Clinging to pruned playground oaks
rain-fed forest boulders
wind-swept suburban fences
these resilient sojourners

With legacy as old as stardust

Forests of mosses
with tiny stems and leaves
watered by heaven’s mist
pruned by seasonal whims

As nurtured by the supreme maker

Insistent lichens
fungal crusts and powdery scales
some posing as miniature leaves
orange, brown, white, lime

All patterned by the ancient of days

Their colonies moved by nature’s breath
to converge and disperse
over eons and generations
to settle adjacent and amidst

Such is a world at peace

The Liquid Canvas of the Fort Worth Water Gardens

Amid a major convention center, hotels, office buildings and parking garages is an anomalous yet fitting contrast to concrete and asphalt.  The Fort Worth Water Gardens is indeed an oasis. sited to intersperse business and art, active and passive, work and play.

This 4.3-acre urban park was dedicated to the City of Fort Worth by the Amon G. Carter Foundation in 1974.  Architects Philip Johnson and John Burgee juxtaposed three contrasting water canvasses woven together by tree-lined pathways. open grassy interludes and dramatic sculptures.  Collectively, the three water features engage our senses, challenge our boundaries and delight our souls.

The Active Pool is certainly no pool.  It is a series of angled waterfalls that form dizzying peaks and valleys.  Compounding this visual overload is the incessant roar of cascading water, rhythmic in tune to uneven steps and echoing in deep crevices. Brave visitors, like my husband Richard, take a broken path just a few inches above the flowing water.



City waterfall

Urban Waterfall

Brave Richard!

Brave Richard!

Just a few steps away is the contrasting Meditation Pool.  Its still blue waters beckon you to calm your soul and reflect on the peaceful stillness.  Whispering water gently pours over pebbled walls fronted by bald cypress trees.


Meditation Pool


Reflections in Many Dimensions

Water Wall

Water Wall

The Aerating Pool is a delightful display of small water drops sprayed out of rows of illuminated fountains.  This hissing pool is liquid pointillism in constant motion – glimmering, dancing.


Aerating Pool


Hissing Waters


Liquid Pointillism

The non-water features are equally creative and fun.


Buttress Roots, or Knees, of Bald Cypress Trees Around Meditation Pool


Liquid Perspective




If you’re anywhere near the southern portion of Fort Worth, the Fort Worth Water Gardens is definitely a worthwhile day trip!

Butterfly Shadows

You appeared on a crisp spring morning
when honey bees descended on arugula flowers
that twinkled sunburst in the breeze

A little caterpillar whose gentle soul
was clothed in orange silk
fastened by thin black stripes

I asked you, “Child, where is your mother?”
but you blithely continued to nibble
on my tender lettuce and chard seedlings

I allowed your piracy of daily sustenance
anticipating the day you would grace my garden
with your whisper touch and weightless flutters

I guarded your motionless chrysalis
that belied metamorphosis about to unfold
your wings to fly where your spirit beckons

Though I have not seen you since your inaugural flight
I sometimes imagine you hovering near me
casting shadows of times that could have been

For Ben (April 30, 1960 to September 5, 2015)