My energy level is low, I am not sure why, but I feel deeply tired.  Like I cannot get enough sleep, like my muscles are weak and don’t want to move, as though suddenly the gravity has gotten heavier.  And I am irritable and whiny.

I am not eating well and my body has put up it’s protest.  Too much cheese, not enough fresh fruits and vegetables I guess.  I spend the whole day with symptoms of IBS finally leaving three hours early and taking a sick day today.  I sleep as late as the dogs will let me, and tell tale sign skip my morning coffee in favor of hot water with lemon and honey.  My daily banana, and for lunch today roasted yams, potatoes and pearl onions.  Dinner tonight sauteed zucchini, and a salad of radish red peppers and carrots.

I am seriously considering taking another day tomorrow.  I have a light load on Wednesdays, and something is up with my body, I have to go to the vet later and will take the time to get some juice and brothy soups.  Tomorrow, lentil stew.  Wholesome goodness, vegetarian options.

Not sure what is up, but at least I know how to nurture my body.


Lucky lucky lucky

How can I say this?  This thing inside me, outside me?

I come out of the shower and find my bed is made.  And then leave for a day or so.  I make dinner, sleep, and in the morning take a couple hours to scrub the holy bejesus out of the bathroom.

It is overwhelming, a bit, I think as I take the trash to the garage, trying not to look at the floor, or the mess.

But there he is when he gets home, kissing me, wrapping his arms around me.

And when we are driving, taking my arm and putting it in his.

And later buying the items I suggest to help keep the house looking more tidy and more homey.  He gets it all.

No questions asked.

And when my thumb starts bleeding again he hands me his hankie, no its okay I say, but he insists, and checks to make sure the bleeding has stopped.

And at home again, he lets me throw things away, without yelling.

I am cautious, are you sure this is okay?  Are you feeling resentful?

Why would I be he asks me.

Why would you be, why would any one be resentful of such a thing, as we take the comforter that is old, too small, doesn’t match and is pilly and rough on my skin.  And put a blue and green and lavender paisley duvet cover on the king size comforter.

Why would you be? Why would anyone be.

He helps me carry stuff out to the car, hands me a handful of band aids for my cut thumb after checking to make sure it is okay.

The goodbye is long, I do not want to go, he doesn’t want me to go.  I am so unused to being wanted to not being shoved out the door, to lingering in a cuddle, to lingering over a kiss, to hugs that last a long time.

I don’t trust any of this. I keep waiting for the other shoe to fall.

But when I get home expecting to wash the dishes, I break down in tears, I put my head down on the table and sob like a baby.

You see he had done the dishes too, while I was in the shower, and I did not notice til now.


You Tell Me

The silver tops of prophet’s beard bounce in the autumn breeze

the rust and browns and golds all that is left of the brilliant colors

the sky a study in values of grey as the golden rays of sunshine

cast a spot light on the land, here, and over there.

My breath is a white cloud in the crisp morning air

as I tilt my head up to look for the geese I can hear passing over head.

I have this thing inside me, an emptiness

a fullness

that I cannot begin to express

it is not a wanting, nor is it a needing

but it is a noticing

Sometimes I feel like everything is wrong

as though the world had other plans for me

and I


have missed all the sign posts.

Othertimes I feel like everything is right

and the sun is shining a spotlight

and like a line from MacBeth

I strut and fret my hour upon the stage.

And now I am in the middle

looking left and then right

and asking myself

a lot of important questions

ones I cannot begin to verbalize

but are searing in their quest for truth

poignant in their quest for meaning

wise in their quest for understanding.

A big rough and strong hand gently reaches for me

and my belly is full of butterflies

as I remember

what it is to be loved, and to love.

And here I thought,

it was just the hormones of youth

like a baby smiling because it has gas.

Am I wincing, or is it just a really big grin?



This must be part of the curse

you and your bruja put on me

to dream of you

every so often

holding my hand

as i welcome you back into my life

i always think it is a dream

and then realize it isn’t one.

only to wake

alone in my bed.

Well not exactly alone

the dog whimpers wanting to go out

the old one on the floor unmoving until i step on him

and the big guy only few miles away

and my heart happy with its solitude

i dream of painting trees,

blind in the fading light

and of this painting class i am taking

and of brilliant orange streaks of paint

on the mottled skin of a sycamore tree

and when i wake

here and now

i am an artist

and you are not part of me



beyond recognition


tree trunk legs

willow frond arms

vultures eyeing an untended heart

while the brain rattles its bars



unfathomable eons

shaken and jittery

careening and tottering

a hand patting in the darkness for fallen glasses


i am like piglet’s sweater


graceless on the blustering winds

i open up my box of treasures

you know the one

worn unfinished planks

hammered together uneven

and empty

frantic searching




in autumn