I have deep connections to the land where I live, here in Oregon, where the water is cool, the trees are tall, and the sky is as wide as my wondering eyes.

Once, I was a tree.

My toes were roots that

Traveled deep into the soil.

My fingers were branches

Reaching for the sun.

My hair was leaves

Fluttering in the breeze.

The warmth of summer

On my bark was my tan.

The cool snow wrapped

Me up like a sweater

In the winter.

I loved to dye my hair leaves

Different colors in the fall.

In the spring, I tried on

New bark dresses

And adorned my leaf tresses

With greens of all shades

And hues.

The land is my mother,

The sky is my father.

The lakes and rivers

Are my aunts and uncles.

All the trees

are my brothers and sisters.

In their arms,

I thrive.


Sometimes, when we lose hope, it can be easier to decide to give up than to keep fighting.

Hope is a burden I cannot shoulder
Disappointment is so much more clear
Wanting something causes need
To make you hold something dear

It will be better to become stone
To never want anything
Wanting something gives it power
To desire the feeling it will bring

Desire, that old enemy of stone
It rears up and bites, grips you
In its fierce jaws where you writhe
And struggle, you do

I’m a maiden of rock, sure
A creature of silent remorse
I bear my crushed hope
And sink beneath its force

Hope’s lost warrior
Doesn’t live here
Find another believer
To dwell in fear

I am not she
Not the one
It isn’t me
I’m done.


Greek mythology cautions no one’s fate is their own, but is rather a fabric created, measured, and severed by Clotho the Spinner, Lachesis the Measurer, and Atropos the Cutter.

I am the twisted and tangled of things,
Rolled and unrolled from colorful skeins.

I am the master of this ship made of wings,
And I am the vessel which all of this brings.

Through my voice the wind howls and sings,
Through my eyes see the splendor of rings.

Moonlight and sunlight by any means,
I am the creator of marvelous things.

I am the master of this ship made of words;
I am the owner of these thoughts never heard.

I am the lock whose door cannot open-
I am the key which can never be broken.

Ferocity runs wild and rampant in me:
Tread with caution, ere I let it free.

My thoughts are the tangled and twisted of things,
Rolled and unrolled from bright deadly skeins.

The Printer

I’ve loved the Outlander series by Diana Gabaldon for years, half of my life in fact. One of my favorite scenes in the reunion scene in Jamie’s print shop. It makes me cry every time. My ode to these amazing characters and the awesome talent of their creator…my favorite scene, in verse.

Eyes made of whisky

To the printer’s she ran;

Her hand on the latch

She laid eyes on her man.
Her voice barely heard,

She called out his name;

“Jamie,” she  whispered,

And reached for his red mane.
His back stiffened straight,

He turned, white as snow,

“Claire?” His whisper

Reached her ears, so slow.
She nodded assent,

Her eyes damp with tears,

“It’s me,” she agreed,

Mourning the loss of their years.
Her grief turned to alarm,

When with nary a sound,

Her red haired giant lover

Thudded to the ground.
She raced to his side

And cradled his head,

He revived at her touch,

Saying, “I thought ye were dead!”
“I thought the same,

You big bloody oaf!”

They grinned at each other

At her familiar oath.
Finally together

After worlds apart,

Reunited in love and laughter,

Bonded in heart.


Where do your dreams come from?

I am the fisher of dreams

Cast my net into the ether

Fling my strands into the deep

And settle them over you

Like a shroud you’ll wake from


I wade into the Lethe waters

Feel the cool waves at my thighs

And dip my net into the rills

At the shadowy end of a stone

Capturing a memory with fins


Feet grip the submerged earth

I make my way back, inky shore

My nets are full of wispy things

Ethereal and light in my hands

I am content, my night’s catch


I shiver in the cold nothingness

But bend once more to task

My fillet knife slices the dreams

And cuts away the darkness

To leave only the light


Blindly I finish, eyes not needed

And settle into the grassy bank

Where I wait for dawn’s warmth

To limber my limbs, more ahead

Catching and cleaning, not done


Riotous color signals the day

Fingers warm, I thread the eye

Stitch the seams, smooth edges

Press each dream into a sheaf

Tucked away for tomorrow


I am the fisher of dreams

I have them safe in my creel

My nets untangled, I head home

To feed you the harvest, bounty

See you dwell ‘neath my blanket

Safe, under my fisher’s hand


Sometimes, opposites are just that and nothing more. You can try to make the impossible your reality, but forces are aligned against your success. What is a decade of your life worth? Best be sure you have something worthwhile to clutch close to your damaged heart.

How did I miss
Such an obvious lack
An absence of possibility
Hidden in perfect bliss

Two different, too odd
Not agreeable in the least
I saw nothing of these
I was too overawed

Island away and oceans apart
What I thought was the answer
Was instead my undoing
The tearing of my heart


Button, mutton, who’s a glutton?

Inky, blinky, dollop of blight;

Pesky, testy, smidgen of light.

Pierce not my gimlet eye,

Lest we roast you, him and I.


Jammy, whammy, what’s in my hand?

Bits of teeth, pieces of land.

Hungry, mungry, gnaw on bones,

Hear the shrieks and the moans.


Tea time, smee time, ate a bite;

Was your eyeball? That’s not right!

Here’s a larkspur, here’s a cure;

Eat this poison or endure.


Join us, gloin us, have some fun!

Weevil, beevil, in the sun…

Sit right down and have no fear:

It’s just us, we’re all mad here.