I believe in what I’ll never know Hallelujah If I get lost I’ll walk back to myself Hallelujah May silver threads of rain cleanse my song of Hallelujah May spring sun warm my winter-worn pale face Hallelujah May I live in gratitude forever singing Hallelujah Till dust of my old bones feeds the worms Hallelujah … More Hallelujah


Roots of truth spread through the soil of understanding obscure like subterranean aspen networks during winter quiet Opinions can evolve untroubled by uncertainty, nourished by the mystery of partial knowledge not fed by snap judgments or need for absolute answers but embracing the unanswerable Photo by Doug Duffee courtesy of Unsplash


Summon a muse, but get a witch Who incites havoc in your psyche, Besmirching you with mystic incantations Summon a witch, but get a muse Whose insights of enlightenment Bedazzle you with lyric alchemy    Day Thirteen: Write a poem about something mysterious and spooky! Your poem could be about something that is mysterious and … More Summons

Labyrinth of Mystery

Uncertainty is winking within this labyrinth of life mystery interspersed throughout the dead ends of certainty Along the path of not-knowing I am humbled by an unfamiliar joy the taste of ambiguity, the rustling of new perspective devoid of any closure open to an arising of what is My tiny world is athwart to the … More Labyrinth of Mystery


A woman sits alone, a cane her only companion perhaps she is resting her legs a bit before going to market perhaps she is waiting for her lifelong lover to meet her in the gardens perhaps she’s remembering a time long ago when they sat at that place and first kissed perhaps the flowers inspire … More Perhapsing

Unexpected Visitors

Three flying saucers hovered in front of the big pine outside the porch. “Come see,” he called. “Stand here.” I did and in embrace, both of us looking outward, three disks of light quivered beyond the glass door, shifting a bit as we turned our heads, fluttering with each shiver of wind. It mattered not to us … More Unexpected Visitors


Does the bumblebee ask why it forages pollen? Does the tulip maple ask why it blooms? Does the moon ask why she conceals her dark side? The answer to every layer of “why?” contains another layer of questions. When I ponder the myriad why’s of my purpose I suspect it’s more than just following laws … More Why’s

Late Spring Dawning

The sky’s grey blanket thins but the shadows under elms are dark and shifting Soon my countenance will greet the sun’s brute cheerful honesty opening like daylily blooms ablaze But for now I stay enveloped in the gentle muted mystery lingering with the quiet primrose night