When he's home, not 

wearing that coat, I wonder what 

the Ringmaster wears.

The sparkles and dirt
mingled, but the sparkles were 
always the brightest.

We're all given the 
same tools to work with. It's all
in how you sculpt it.

The window stayed 
open while I was gone. I found 
a leaf in the sink.

The clouds were
dramatic and the big lands were
many plain shades of brown.

That ghost better get
gone.  He's scaring my daughter
and making me mean.

When she nurses she 
tickles my arm hairs and I
feel so fond of her.

I thought I knew those 
two girls, but then it totally 
wasn't even them.

I missed the moon
tonight. I walked and walked and walked,
never saw it once.

The sun shone on the 
rain drops that sweet, fresh, earth 
only moons could give me.

It was the sweet
smelling, crazy rains where the sun 
rays warm you after.

I planted flowers 
at that place and moved before 
I knew if they'd bloomed.

Lazy, cold, cozy,
breezy, sunny, cloudy, wet,
lost kind of morning.

She fell asleep in
her hood and boots and I thought,
'I remember that'.

To see a foxicorn
brings good fortune. To cross paths 
at night brings famine.

The foxicorn dwells
near the edge of the beach where
the green forests meet.

The foxicorn's horn
is his protection, seduction 
and influence.

The sun is always
shining. Even when it's hiding
behind some clouds.

All the way home I 
wrote a story in my head 
about those two 'birds.

I'm a slave to it.
It takes over my life. Morn,
noon and every night.

The fog lays low
today, just above my head,
making me feel cozy.

I'll write the fairy
tale and you can be the magic
that makes it so.

He stirred in his sleep
and I wanted so badly 
to be next to him.

I walked from the dark

night into the day's light and 

lighter shades of blue.

I walked through Summer
with the roses, the shade, the 
dew drops close behind.

It was about her
hat and his casualness in
the hot sunny shade.

We told ghost stories
all night or, rather, it was 
an invitation.

We talked of ghosts then 
I was left alone with one 
standing behind me.

Wanda J. played above
while she wrote feverishly 
in her journal.

The baby had inspired
her, so, she wrote a story 
from end to end.

These poems are like 

a painting for you to see 

what stars I wish on.

What is paradise,
Mom? I don't know, My Sweet Child. 
I've yet to go there.

The realtor comes each
day to water the lawn in 
his white linen pants.

A lighthouse, the sea, 
a boat adrift, the moon hangs
large, perfectly white.

The rib guy always
calls me darlin' when I walk
by in the morning.

Lives are never lost. 
Only on another journey
somewhere far off.

The birds love the trees
in our yard and I love seeing 
the birds float by.

The wind tugged at my 
skirt tails, pulling me back, but 
I kept on moving.

I walk this winding 
road alone, but hug many 
friends along the way. 

The wind blew the babe's
hair around and the sun lit
it with yellow light.

There was a crescent

moon, crickets singing and the 

baby was sleeping.

The mysterious
sailboat moon drifting over 
the greying ocean.

With Marguerite we 
walked on Marguerite Street to 
the Marguerite Sea.

The ghosts don't usually 
stay here, at least not long, 
they're just passing through.

I moved the furniture
around. Now the ghosts have
a place to sit, too.

Suddenly I realized
there were no more flies and 
all the spiders had come.

The neighbor listens
to John Denver when the morn
light meets the grape leaves.

Chilly mornings, warm 
noons, quiet evenings, darker 
nights welcome Autumn.

I wish you the 
best in this life, your travels
and a heart that's light.

With the dark days and 

dark nights there's always a break 

in the clouds, always.

It was a quiet
night. Not even the flies were
stirring in their beds.

He walked through the door
as the music climaxed and 
it was just too much.

The crow looks weathered
like he's probably lived in 
that tree forever.

I took the wedding 
clothes from the box, all the smiles
came back to my heart.

The weather's changing. 
The animals are getting  
restless and moody.

I look at your baby
body thinking how sweet and 
elegant you are.