Yellow rose bush standing tall and looking well, You have many stories you could tell. Some stories of sorrow you might whisper, While the stories of joy you will yell.   Since your beginning the odds against you were stacked, Before you could be planted into your first home It was time to move, and...

Little boats are not supposed to hold glass screens that reflect an atmosphere of shifting humors but I sit and stare at a little glass square that cannot hold the moon with silver dust and then nothing and a thousand other things like the dark side of a book or the dark side of canyons that never form full lines of sound that ...

From a leadoff cry to the giggles followed by, From a chaotic mess to a calming lullaby, From the first glimpse to the endless sights, From the promising grounds to wishful heights, From best to worst and worst to best, Moving on as the days went by,   For what’s mine is mine to receive.   ...

Why does a honeybee fly? Perhaps only to feed on the nectar of orchids, or to dance a dance of thoughtfulness with the tulips. Maybe because flightlessness is most fearful.     What motivates, and what drives? Pursuit of the grandeur of the Iris, to rest as the dew on a rose. Thoughtlessness as blis...