Growing Aristocracy


Sometimes life just slips in slow,

hesitant, on feet of crepe;

self-doubt-dressed, with head hung low,

apologetic for its shape.

Little one, lift up your eyes,

dare to claim the legacy

Your Maker saw as noble prize,

growing aristocracy.

The Breath of Spring


If home is where heart-aches hang their hats,

what shovel can make the mat welcome?

Only Chinook winds of forgiveness,



wafting on Spirit wings,

can melt Denial

and soften Stubbornness

with the breath of Spring.

Mother’s Song

I cannot promise perfect days

Or from your circles, constant praise;

I cannot banish rainy storms

Or pledge that love will keep you warm;

To guarantee the stars will shine

Steps out of bounds that are not mine –

But I can hold you when you grieve,

When breakers dash what you believe,

And life’s false grandeur grinds hope down;

I won’t let your sorrow drown

Your vision or your grip on grace  –

My daughter child, there is a place

Inside my soul where you belong,

You draw from me this Mother’s Song…

Lean on Me

Lean on me, little one,

The days ahead are dark;

The wicked winds will try their best

To leave an angry mark.


Lean on me, little one,

This world is cold and bleak;

Your tender heart needs time to grow

And find the self you seek.


Lean on me, little one,

It is the only way

That you will gain the strength you need

Before you face the fray.


Lean on me, little one,

My love will cling to you,

Let it be the sunshine that will

Paint your palette true.

Family Picnic

Just like a family picnic –

you and your various mini-me’s assemble in riotous good nature,

a plethora of shapes and colours and identities and ages;

a neat baker’s dozen of assorted pastries

dipped in philosophical frosting

and whetted on the milk of human kindness.

Each brings its own flavour as a side-dish;

dessert is served in the sweetness with which

you coddle your brood.