writer
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storm
the gathering clouds encroach, upon the fairest blue, the darkness starts a swift approach, a sinister, swirling stew. lighting burns across the sky, thunder clatters like old bones, the cold cascade plummets from on high, as the wind snarls and moans. and though the weather is wild, I am safe behind my window, to my Continue reading
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swish
it begins with a droning noise to summon me forward, wheels locked into place, windows closed, the dreaded swish, swish begins eyes shut tight, knuckles clenched so hard they turn white, slick, blue tendrils spin and slap against my fortress, in a vicious, soapy barrage, over and over I pray for the torment to end Continue reading
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morning sky
the day begins in darkness, and so too shall it end, but on a fine spring morning, it’s a lush, illustrious blend, the pink represents promise, the orange, a bright prospect, the blue is quiet calmness, like a moment to reflect, the sun is just awakening, in a newborn, golden glimmer, and gives the morning Continue reading
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raccoons
a dozen raccoons crossing this busy freeway met their sad demise (popped into my head while driving down an unfortunately roadkill-heavy highway this afternoon 😢) Continue reading
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Cup of Sun
I will consider each new day, a fresh chance to begin. Like a little piece of sun, brightly blazing deep within. I shall turn to face the light, and revel in the glow. The world may cut me down, but ever, I will grow. Continue reading
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loss
I could feel the bones in your back, though you purred against my hand, your eyes were half-closed, and I knew. I think you did, too. it was a cloudy day on the brink of winter, and the bad news fell like an anchor, I kept saying goodbye long after you couldn’t hear it anymore. Continue reading
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spring 🌱
the air tastes fresh and clean, and gentle mist welcomes the morn, sparkling dew clings to the grass, and the flowers wake reborn, the sun warms the once-barren earth, and birds produce new song, as my chilled bones begin to thaw, I wish it were spring all year long. Continue reading
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The Queen
from atop your lofty throne, we all must look so small, but you are seated there alone, while we wait for you to fall, your cruel tongue strikes a cutting blow, as sharp as any blade, I often wonder if you know, what it means to be afraid? there is honey in your voice, but Continue reading
Frostwritten 