Tear stained remorse
Death comes in little ways
Sneaks up on us
And slaps our face

No towel needed
No rag, no wrap
She let down her hair
And dried them fast

Kissed by joy
She lavished perfume
Massaged away
Her regret and gloom

The Golden Pan

April 6, 2020

We dip pie pans into the stream
And come up with arrowheads
White quartz and black flint

It is our gold
Our barter
Our joy
Our whim


April 5, 2020

T’ain’t Florida

It’s work
Riding in the dirt
Down a forbidden hill
Into a city
Prayed over

Green palms will turn brown
Wither at His feet

Does our Love wither?
Can we ride with Him
To Jerusalem?

“Crown Him with many crowns”

One wounded head
Torn and bruised
Wears the crown

It is a crown of suffering
And glory

A beautiful thorn
A corona of hope

“Be not dismayed, Children”,
I hear the words from the throne

The Sound of Silence

March 13, 2020

“In restless dreams I walked alone”

I married myself
in Clyde’s Field
A red-tailed hawk
Three women friends
and a sister
Gathered in the parking lot
we hiked up the fire trail


I wore a creamy Sundance dress

it floated on the grass

tiny crosses on its back

long purple ribbons tied a wild bouquet

we shared words, songs,

scripture, testimony, prayer

then ate cupcakes and laughed

beautiful cards and gifts opened love

I married God again

Who shall separate me from the Love of God?

No one
No man
No one

“Guide me, O Thou great Jehovah
Pilgrim through this barren land
I am weak, but Thou art mighty
Hold me with Thy powerful hand”
—William Williams (Welsh minister and hymn writer/composer)

“..for when I am weak,
then I am strong”
But I am a wounded warrior
A baby’s gentle breath
I am blown into the heavens
As dandelion fluff
I sail on a Summer breeze
Kissed by a child
Never sure which wish
Wispy and floating
Will grow into a yellow flower

“Please and Thank You”

February 12, 2020

Once upon a time
Not too many years ago..
I rushed from a busy hospice schedule
And lifestyle in metro-Atlanta
To my favorite place on earth
St. Simon’s
The Golden Golden Isle

Burger King was my destination
On my way to the beach
To satiate my Coke Zero addiction

I ordered at the drive-through
Spoke into the speaker
“One large Coke Zero with light ice.”

Here was the response I received
From the woman through the speaker:
“Please and Thank You.”

Boy, did she jerk me up!
I had forgotten my manners
In my rush from a crazy world
Where everyone hurries
And manners are often neglected,
Forgotten, maybe don’t seem to matter

But don’t they?

Now—as you might imagine—
You better believe
No matter the hurry I’m in
(And ‘hurry’ is my pet peeve,
I hate it!)
I NEVER forget to say “Please and Thank You”.

So, thank you, sister of St. Simon’s
For the vital reminder of
How important good manners still are.

And dear reader,
Thank YOU for reading..
And also..
Would you please remember your manners
As you help others remember theirs?

God bless us all
As we try our best to cope
In a frantic, frenetic world

Conversation on a Balcony

February 8, 2020

“Is that Sojourner Truth?”
I asked in struck surprise
She was sitting on the ledge
outside a gathering
high above the street
feet dangling
I climbed out the window
and sat next to her
“Are you Sojourner Truth?!”
I asked, still stunned
“Yes” she replied
eyes focused forward
long back in perfect posture
straight as my Aunt Sally’s
in Acworth by her wood stove

We talked a while
I don’t remember all that was spoken
but this I am certain of
and will never forget, because it is True!

“But weren’t you a slave?” I asked
In simple curious pitch
She responded in her own
patient serenity, power
Inward and lurching
Strength pouring from her
Prophetess tongue
The Sojourner
the Pioneer
the Follower of Jesus
even in tent meetings
when apples are thrown
at white people’s conferences
when the Spirit hush fell
“Ain’t I a woman?!”
Good God, YES!

But it was to me,
to me, only me,
my legs dangling too
She turned and said,
“They thought I was, but I wasn’t.”

Sojourner, stay
Don’t let me awake.


February 8, 2020

“Hope deferred makes the heart sick.”
-Proverbs 13.12a


We share something, Langston.

We share memories of what we hope

Some futuristic novel, like science fiction, fantasy.

We know there is something better

some world where dreams are realized

hearts pump as they should

muscles work

We traverse roads that are slippery and sharp

barbed wire fences that keep us out

We climb walls like ivy

searching for the sun

We are phototropic

We take pictures in our minds of possibility

of intricate scenes not yet performed

They wait for another time

The play goes on without us

We sit, polite, hands folded in an audience of one.

Rush hour
Cobb County
Nothing to mess around with
And yet, and yet
Amidst sirens, fast tires, honking horns
On the corner of busy Barrett Parkway
And Old 41
I hear them
First through my closed window
at the red traffic light
I stop mid-thought
Stunned by the sound
Of spring peepers in February
New Life
I roll down my window
Stick out my head as far as it will go
And listen
Take in the sweet little sound

Thank you, God, for
Moments like these,
Glimpses of grace
In a world gone mad