Falling Leaves

Leaving my house this morning, the falling leaves gave me pause.

As I drove deeper into the mountains, I was inspired.

The trees at the top of the peaks
shed their leaves to color the trees below
while memories of spring and summer
seep into yesterday.
Winter awaits.


What the Heart Knows

A poetry kind of morning.

What the Heart Knows

Tears flow like rain
Drop by drop
…Until an ocean appears

We cast away worries
And reel in memories
…The heart remembers

We are on the sidelines
Watching and waiting
…Powerless to to stop the tide

Fueled by tears

Dropping one by one

Blog, Home

Part of Me

Summer rain
Sassafras tea
A freshly snapped green bean

It’s sprinkling
Now raining
A storm is coming
Quick, get inside

Buttered biscuits
A skeleton of fish bones
Draped across my plate

Lightening bugs
A too close hummingbird
Sent chills down my back

Contrails whisked strangers
Across my sacred sky

I was there
Then gone
In a contrail of my own
Close my eyes, I’m back again


Discovering Contemporary Writers and Poets

I am not as familiar with contemporary poets as I should be. I have been delving into poetry and prose more of late. I never professed to have a poet’s voice, but I do appreciate those that do.

This week I have been reading some of the work of Iain S. Thomas, a South African poet living in Cape Town.

He wrote a book earlier this year entitled What We Should Do When This Is Over to deal with his own anxiety about the pandemic and the mundane things he misses.

He may be best known for his collaborative work with photographer Jon Ellis entitled I Wrote This For You. I discovered he has a presence on Spotify and Facebook so I will be exploring more there.

In researching more of his work, I stumbled on this in Twitter and it spoke to me like nothing has in a very long time.  I hope you read it and it is impactful to you as it was to me.


If you have a favorite contemporary poet you enjoy, I would appreciate it if you would drop their name in the comments. I love expanding my horizons.


Where I’m From – A Crowdsourced Poem

Family photo of a picnic at my Grandmother’s house. She is in the plaid shirt looking toward the camera. 1965

I wrote an earlier blog about a workshop I attended centered around the poem “Where I’m From” written by George Ella Lyon. You can read that post by following this link.

I finally have my first version of that poem complete and as promised, I am sharing it here. It definitely gives you a taste of the way I grew up. After writing, I realized I could write this poem ten times over because it is impossible to include all the aspects of who I am in one short poem. But this does give you a window into what makes me who I am.

Maggie – Where I’m From

I am from worn-out Bibles and divinity fudge
From mimosa trees and bumblebees
I am from stringin’ beans and shuckin’ corn
and huddling around the Siegler stove.
I am from black walnuts
whose shells hid tiny faces with big eyes.

I am from valley creek and the baptizing hole
From Bertha Rose and Walter.
I am from minding your manners
and counting your blessings.
from hard workers and tall tale-tellers.
I’m from Peace in the Valley and Steal Away to Jesus

I am from Big Jim and Freida Mae
angel biscuits and chinquapins
from walking home after Sunday preachin’.
Faded faces of my family kept
tucked away in a Whitman’s Sampler box
still smelling of old chocolate.
From heart attacks and mistletoe and
stereo images of well-appointed ladies.

I am from those moments slowly slipping away
but forever in my DNA.