Delicate Detour



I pause


my to-do list caught

in your delicate detour,

fly to your whimsical web.

Task and master flounder,

round ruffled maze-twists;

forgetfulness steals soft

in lemon-drop swirls.

Weeds will wait.

Urgency evaporates

amidst petalled purity;

here is Now,

here is life alive,

painted to mimic sunshine,

so I pause.



Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair,

I want to climb up that glorious stair

And sail to the stars on your sunbeams of light;

Tell me you’ll let down your tresses tonight.


Rapunzel, Rapunzel, unwind your braids,

I want to capture their rich golden shades

And transfer their brilliance to heart’s dingy gloom;

Tell me you’ll lend me your triumphant bloom.


Rapunzel, Rapunzel, loosen your mane,

Rain me with sunshine, then douse me again;

Dying, your splendour will compost this earth,

Breeding renewal and spawning my birth.

Her Secret



She radiates joy. Joy

sizzles and pops around her,

a force field of Sun in

miniature, multiplied –

reflected off a thankful

heart; its power persists

in shadows, transcends

rainy days, stands true

through fog and storm

and cloud and clear skies

alike. Her secret?

She spends time in the Light…



After tears, a grin,

after loss, a win;

as hope soars on love’s wing,

after winter, spring.

After darkness, light,

after stumbles, flight;

as battles fought are won,

after rain blooms sun.

Pastoral Summer’s Eve



Evening steals in soft,

spreading emerald

quilt-corners at a

country picnic, patchwork


of grasses. Water trickles

slow, gossiping in wet

whispers of fire-flies and

wolf willows, long days


and scented nights. The

sun teases, kissing here,

nuzzling there, bleaching

foliage with each



encounter, painting

with dappled brush

a magnificent scene,

“Pastoral Summer’s Eve’.