know the arc is repetitive. in this pendulum of life. with highs and lows. swinging to and fro. and all the points in between. when gravity pulls back down. dips. threatens to stall. one can find momentum in the downdrafts. swing. forward into those uplifts. those euphoric elevations. until thrust is achieved. and lift off into the stratosphere. to fly free.

that moment when the arc of completion drops. a brief rush of relief. quickly followed by the messy emotional cocktail found at the end of a laborious rainbow. finish. with a lackluster pot of gold. dulled by the stress of reaching here. bittersweet. glinting flecks of accomplishment reflect efforts made. while the heavier nuggets nag with the endless question. what now.

the manic crests and crashes of life. produce fluctuating moods. but when warmer updrafts prevail. latch on. ride that bundle of balloons. their colorful flurry of fun uplifting you to lighter elevations. to moments outside the madness. and when the gravitational pull of reality feels too strong. know. one can always find simple spheres to elevate. and help you feel free.

there’s this thing called hope. we all get it on occasion. comes out of a kind gesture, word, or view. sinks its unrealistic teeth into one’s subconscious. and leaves its rosy residue behind. embedding. waiting until reality resumes to rekindle that optimistic flame. fire. that burns ahead. alight with potential. promising fortunate futures. for those willing to mix hope with action.

first light of a new year washes ashore. paints my world in blues and golds. dawning. it warms the air, the earth, the developing days. cascades its promising power over this solitary start. where a release from before. and a welcome to the now. collide under cotton puffed skies. present. in the 2017 dawn. i vow to embrace every day to come.


a raw open nerve. pulsing. every thought of self-doubt amplified by the echo of negative affirmations. the never, no, not nonsense taking too much time. energy. depleting my core of can, will, and do. orchestrating a struggle for reminders of the high notes. one finds in imperfect life. some days it’s difficult to see beyond the mesh. the barrier. of insecurity.


a darkness is spreading. but with a turn you hit me. consume every space. around in and through me. my celestial obsession. reminder of hope. you golden goddess who breathes energy into wilting wintry souls. i hear you. and fear nothing. armored with the knowledge that your courageous rays rise daily. we will resist this ugliness. band together. and create anew.


she flies from one role to the next. artist. lover. protector. with every encounter adding new skills to her utility belt. this multitasking super heroine thrives in exhaustion. puzzles the pieces of daily compromise. but finds time to hang her cape. momentarily. relax in comforting concoctions. and rejuvenate in stormy sunsets. knowing that tomorrow will call for her ample abilities again.


we each have a path. it twists and winds and spills forth. intertwining with other trails. at times easily swept into the draining effort of comparison. her leaves are thicker. his fruit more vibrant. but those false values hold one back. limit the growth of our own grove. for this journey is our own. sacred. and ripe for every unique bloom.