In the crucible
of all that is unknown
dreaming of the moment
when you will know
which way to go
until you realize
the moment is you.



Poetry, short prose, & general musings.
Swimsuits drying on a porch baluster
Toys strewn about
Chair fabric stained
Feet landing in sticky places on the floor
Board and batten splattered with Nutella
Delicious wool rug pulled from little truck tires
Crumbs collecting in corners
As much as I long
For things to be tidy, beautiful, esthetic
I want more for them to be used up
Overworked
So that my home
Becomes like my favorite sweater
Crumpled, soft, a hug.






