Walking in the garage at night

Bright, blue, fluorescent lights
flickering in the garage
Chase the encroaching dark
from the gleaming white walls

Bright yellow arrows,
guiding left and right
through multitudes of ramps,
racing up, then down

Gleaming, metallic monsters
shut down for the night
Their predatory engines
silenced for a while

Grumbling thunder echoes
Rainwater gushes through the pipes
Dark, dripping leaves, mourn their kin
Lying afoot, trampled by the rain

And I walk amidst it all, reflecting,
savoring the day gone by
Finding my moment of solitude
In a classic, urban, site.




Eyes closed, I try to sleep
But I can’t do it
My mind runs in different directions
And failing
To hold on to my errant thoughts
Like a hamster on its wheel
It runs in circles
No beginning
No end

School supplies
My girls
Books read and reading
Films and gossip
Grocery lists
Fused bulbs
Dripping taps
News, views
Everything vies
For a piece of me

I lie in bed
Heart racing
To the sounds around me
Cars on the highway
The creak of the door
The whir of the fan
Falling rain
Rustling sheets
The beating of my heart
Every sound is magnified
In the dark

Until one sound impinges
Above all the others
Deep breathing
Beside me
I scoot towards the source
Mumbling in your sleep
You instinctively 
Pull me closer
My breathing slows
My eyes drift close
And at last
I sleep.

The Curious Breeze

There is a gentle breeze
wafting through my window,
softly caressing the sheer,
pale as snow curtains

It whispers softly, urgently
to the pile of brightly hued
many-colored cushions, on the
bare, dark, wooden floor

Fluttering over the bedsheets
it ruffles their pristine calm,
and mischievously rustles the pages
of the books lying all askew

It hovers briefly, over the
little plant hiding in a dark corner,
and wonders, not very deeply,
at its quiet, listless air

Inquisitive, curious, like a child
it flits about my room
touching, feeling,
exploring every cranny

Until, all at once, its gaze lands
upon the green clad vista,
out beyond, and it goes racing,
to flirt with the trees again.

After the rain


Clouds scud
through the blue-grey skies
making haste slowly
towards a new destination.

Mist rises over
the distant mountains
borne upon a
gentle breeze.

The very last
straggling raindrops
fall to the earth
in a desultory fashion.

Steam rises from
the damp earth
warmed by the rays
of the just revealed sun.

Drops of water
lie shakily suspended
on fresh washed
green leaves

Butterflies emerge
from their hiding place
ready to take flight
amidst the flowers again.

And a faded rainbow
stretches across the sky
nature’s benediction
for this fresh new world.

In the rain


When I was a child
I loved to play
in the summer rain
running, jumping
splashing, singing
I would play
imaginary games
with hordes of
make believe friends
and sometimes
with real ones.

As I grew older
just out of my teens
I no longer played,
but I still loved
walking in the rain
sometimes alone
sometimes with a
special someone
those memories
still make me
incandescently happy.

And now I’m
somewhere in between
being a lot older but
not quite old enough
I don’t dance or play
in the rain anymore
or even walk hand in hand
with that special someone.
But the rain remains
special to me.

Now I sit at the window
side by side with
that special someone
snuggling under
a single blanket
books in hand
a cup of tea for me
a happy smile for him
and the magic
that is in the rain


Early morning sunshine
glints off the top
of the white building
across from me.

It’s shadow draws
quirky patterns
over the grove of
dark green trees below.

Their gnarled branches
shelter hundreds
of birds chirping
to welcome a new day.

Dappled leaves
sway hypnotically
in the gentle
morning breeze.

Sounds of traffic
begin to overlay
the trill and treble
of the birdsong

The world is waking
and so must I,
but before my day starts
I pause for just a moment.

Standing before
my window
I drink in these
sights and sounds.

My very own
daily renewal,
the promise filled start
of a brand new day.

The Storm


Lightning streaks
brilliant and jagged,
across the grey
darkened skies,
splitting the clouds
over and again

Thunder follows
close behind, rolling,
roaring, a magnificent
cacophony of noise,
shaking the windows
rattling the doors

The wind sweeps
recklessly, on a rampage
through my house
leaving behind itself,
a pathway strewn with
papers and other flotsam

Raindrops follow,
blown in, scattering,
eager to partake
in this wanton destruction
of cushions, curtains
books and keepsakes

And before I run to shut,
all the windows and doors,
I pause for a moment
silent and awed, enthralled
and just a little bit shaken
by this amazing thunderstorm.