Irish Spring

Its scent weakened by passing timeMy nose snuggles next to its eroded cakeNot like beforeWhen powerful spice cartwheeled out of a newly opened packageStockpiled for days that never cameEight years murmuring manly man perfumeSneaking out, now fading into wisps of memoryWhispers not shouts.Whispers like those memories I seek to capture from before Pain eased into … Continue reading Irish Spring

Can she make a cherry pie Billy Boy and other brain chatter

For years I have attested to never experiencing writer’s block. I should know better than to tempt the old adage: never say never! For the last few months, although I have had bits of success writing a blog here or there, I have experienced a profound writing block. This in itself has had an adverse … Continue reading Can she make a cherry pie Billy Boy and other brain chatter

Eight years

Dad died exactly eight years ago today. I feel like many others who have lost people they love: how can it have been so long, we wonder? The day before dad died he rode his exercise bike and I had just tried to install a window portable air conditioner for my parents' apartment that didn't … Continue reading Eight years

Of Place

The Narrows, Willamette River, Oregon You return to me in these places I journey.Solo explorations beneath canopies of cottonwood and maple.I hesitate to admire the trillium only today peeking out from the soil and hear your voice telling granddaughters about these white short-lived beauties that wake in those first moments of spring.The brilliant yellow flowers … Continue reading Of Place