Home is where the heart is, the saying goes. I bow to my gypsy heart And the many places I have loved. I. Oklahoma I was a child here, Feeling the way only children can– Learning what children learn– All life around me mysterious– In touch with my senses Of touch, smell, taste, sound. Pictures petrified with companion feelings Remain. Storms turning the mid-day skies to black Send us running

Water wheels grind wheat and corn, drive the bellows that heat the iron furnace. We think we harness the water, in reality we are only borrowing its power. Paddle boats roam the rivers, the rivers that provide their power. Steam engines, invented in my own back yard, combine fire and water for greater purpose. The mighty Susquehanna powers a dam, the dam turns water into electricity. One leads to the

I Stardust and a twinkle in your eye converge, you and I become we. We love and become us. A seed becomes a tree. A mighty redwood, statuesque ever reaching higher. A cedar of Lebanon, wizened bearing witness as centuries go by. Their roots a deep foundation. A dandelion, numberless as the stars in the sky wild and untamed. Their seeds take to air, carrying wishes and potential. A divine

Doc rose from his bed where he’d spent the last few hours. Ready or not, he had to speak with her. Celia lived only a mile away. Harley could stay with her, go to the same school, keep the same friends, live the same life. Plus there was the added benefit of Celia being Ellie’s twin. Harley might find herself in a parallel universe of sorts, Ellie gone, but not

I dreamed I had me a daughter, magnificent as a field of corn swaying in the sun, at peace with what she knew and free. I dreamed of how I saw her grow, season by season. I dreamed of all the little things she’d find beautiful in the world that I could never see any beauty in till she showed me them up close. And she was generous like that,

The eggplant was slowly sizzling in the pan on top of my stove when the front doorbell rang. I peered out the kitchen window. A stranger stood outside our duplex. Not that I knew many people anyway. The military had just moved us into this German house less than three weeks ago. A glance at the eggplant pieces in the pan told me that they still needed a good ten

How does one define a hero? Is it super strength, super intelligence, or someone who always catches the bad guy? Could it be a vigilante taking the law into his own hands, or someone willing to do anything to stop criminals, even if it means taking a life? Some people measure a hero by their own standards, such as their moral values, their physical strength used to stop crimes, or

In our garden, Grown over From years of inattention, We find what’s there And work to set it free. Here’s a holly bush, Strangling From the death grip Of a honeysuckle vine. Under the cherry tree A rock garden emerges From beneath the grasses And fallen twigs. Out back we hang The rusty metal treasures We’ve uncovered. Chains, pieces of gates and boats, Weathered garden tools And buckets. An old

Words are tough enough, and now you tell me to measure them in meter and rhyme. To dress them, position them like fruit in a bowl. Words, ink blots, charcoal smears, audibles, never good enough, always second best. Word sage? Please, tell me how to put fire words on a cold line, tell me how to save the gut words that drown in my throat, the ones that never reach