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They go in threes

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 Not sure what to do with this piece: Any ideas/thoughts?? I thought I saw you the other day. You were in the food storage aisle at the grocery, next to tin foil. I remember the tin foil hat you made me. I saw you in the woods, walking through a copse of trees. I tried to catch up to you. I asked myself later if it was you, but how could it be? After you went away. I dreamed about you, me, us every night for one month. Then nothing. Then, I began to see you all around me. It was unsettling and reassuring. We had this way of talking, finishing each other’s sentences. We laughed. When I was sad or afraid, you would place your hand on top of my head. I’m here, you said. Here, but not here. After the estate sale, after winnowing down, giving away, selling off years of togetherness, I kept the Ma and Pa pig salt ’n’ pepper set. So ridiculous to be the one thing. The thing is: I miss you. Sometimes your cell phone still calls me. I recently put it away, in a drawer, let...
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New Work out at Persimmon Tree

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 Me Time--is a weird, funny, awkward piece that simply spun from my pen. Wish it could be more dramatic than that. I'm not always sure where ideas come from. There's a tire store called Protege that I pass when riding my bike to Trader Joe's.  https://persimmontree.org/fall-2026/me-time/ The piece was accepted in April and is out now in a journal called Persimmon Tree:  An Online Magazine of the Arts by Women Over Sixty There is so much to love here. 
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Want to play a game?

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Want to play a game? Who can resist such an invitation at 6:30 in the morning before tea or coffee? From a five-year-old. That’s how, since getting my eyes fixed, my morning starts. Jack comes over with a floor puzzle, Sneaky, Snaky Squirrel, Pass the Banana, or Animal Wildlife Pawprints match game and I am obliged to play. Sometimes my eyes are still glued shut, my mouth is dry and I need my tea, or I’m in a hurry for the bathroom—no matter! He wants to play! And he’s got a GREAT game! Okay, go get it. It’s right here! Under my arm! he might say with his underwear or shirt on backwards. No biggie! And I think, it won’t always be like this. The late summer day, the bright and shiny blonde head, the childish wonder and delight, the rush of words and loose body (his, not mine)—and I know the only answer is: Yes. As I get down on the hard floor and tuck my legs under me for a few (hundred) rounds of Kid Bingo.
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Trail Talk

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 Visitors to the Tiny House have been introduced to my favorite trail, just steps from where I work and the loop is close to 3 km in length. A few weeks ago, Playmakers, where I work, asked me to help re-set the community room after an event. There had been a meeting for Friends of the Lansing River Trail. As I picked up trash and ate some catered leftovers, I said to a guy: I love the river trail! Let me tell you about my favorite trail. He said, Hold that thought, and brought over another person. Come to find out Jordyn is the communications director for the organization and after I gushed about my favorite section of the trail, we arranged a time to meet at the trail entrance, where they set up a camera and had me and my grandson ride our bikes back and forth. It was fun! It’s about connection. The following is a link to the website and to my video. facebook.com/reel/2094247154809332/?rdid=wFNswiXhGHHD1rKB&share_url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.facebook.com%2Fshare%2Fr%2F18aX...
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End of Summer, part 2

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 End of Summer, part 2 See, a hand sweeps stars     from the August sky, as if my mother swept off the supper crumbs from the table at home. Her apron, slipping now and then, smells of parsley      and chives– The sweet scent of her long-gone garden      sending me to sleep beside you tonight again.” “August Evening” by Sandor Csoori I’ve been taking walks at night, just to soak in the last drops of unfettered summer. Often I stop under a lone street lights and look down the lonely road. No cars, only the buzzing of insects, the fluttering of moths. All the houses are quiet, the windows dark and, I wonder: Where are all the people? Surely with devices no one is asleep. Sometimes it is only me and the fireflies moving ay night  When I get home, I’ll make a quick visit to the garden to check on the children before retiring to my bed. I hear the crickets in the cracks of wooden slats holding...
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