A soup poem

Basic Soup

Start at sunrise
in the CrockPot
soak up the patience of a day
let the butter
and garlic get
to know each other
get acquainted
with the holy mirepoix
add beans
Simon & Garfunkel spices
plus others. At sunset
turn the dial to Warm
Serve in darkness.

‘A Map for Samwell Tarley’

A Map for Samwell Tarley


The hills and rivers remain. That is all the map you need.

The scraps of lands where others have traveled ~ you will journey

Past all that. Bring your pen.

Roots will trip you

Ravens will fail you

You will mislay your bundle looking for light

Forward you face each long mile

When you can’t walk, crawl

When crawling fails, sit, not quite quiet

Fill in more of the map





Drought is talented

chooses some streets, cedes others


The sky committee dithers over details

which house gets a proper rainbow


which zone deems dew

a deluge


Count each fleck of moisture

drop huddled to drop seated beside velvet drop




The beautyberry bush blooms just as school
starts. The green berry cluster comes out

about the time the yellow school bus pulls up.
Summer’s green purples, like the bruise

on my middle-left toe, taped to its buddy.
Suddenly purple takes over my yard,

the neighbors’s yard, the doctor’s office,
the post office. Every where we are hurt

can’t hold back, can’t wait for fall.
Behold, our pain!

Berries unripened, astringent beauty



is juvenile

sic ’em with a poem

get the last word

in rhyme, attempt ragtime

say it slant

leave love

‘Reinata Caridorada’

Reinata Caridorada


hot sunset steals the gay light

among once-wildflowers dead from drought

where oak and cedar meet — small birds

glean. We grab

phones, snap males sporting black eyeliner

females flashing off-the-shoulder wingbars.


A dozen endangered yellow faces

black throats white bellies

Warblers of charity


‘Crepe Myrtles’

Crepe Myrtles


The technology of these perennials astounds me,

accustomed to trees that never turn and grass that turns

too soon. My blooms lag behind

these sentinels of sidewalk.

If I could resist my mountain nature

I’d stand tall in the summer sun

croon hot pink.

the RMNP poems: ‘Twin Sisters’



The lodgepole pines did not

shield. I was too hot, too tired

never made it to either summit

I dream of trying again in September 

(Mom’s month)

when aspens burn 

Next time I will try 

by night.

hike by starlight

arrange for a full moon

‘No Sale’

No Sale


I cannot find the correct vendor

the one that sells the right thing to say

I looked in the restless crowd

looked early in the cave at the edge of the sky

expanded my search through summer

since the desired saying does not seem to be for sale

not today

I take the first train I see

exercise my right to be wrong

say the first word that stands up

says Hi




You could get married, or

you could take a hike–in fact, you should hike

together before you get hitched.

Try a trail before you tie the knot.


Spend the three months before the wedding trekking

El Camino del Santiago (you’ll look fabulous!)

or you could do the steep mile straight up Eagle Cliff

Find out if the fireworks last


Depending on when you go, there could be

drought or snow, sprawling vistas or swamps.

It’s all in the timing. Your feet will be sore, but

you’ll manage. The questions: which suit?

what food? whither favors? Whatever.


Back up at the summit

you’ll know if you have a good catch, and

coming back down, you’ll release it all

even your name.