Category Archives: Poetry

Esmee’s Dance

Maybe it happens every day
A child who is three
dances so free
and I just don’t see….

She danced all alone
in the mist with the breeze.
The music it moved her,
moved her like leaves
As she danced with the fire flies
in the light of the moon.

We all saw her
as we danced to the tune.
We saw her so free
and we wept as we moved.
We saw where she was…
and wished we were there.

She danced in the mist

and the music,

in the moonlight…

with the fireflies…

and I saw her.

The moon was full during the wedding reception/dance for my youngest son and his bride.  There was a mist that hovered close to the ground as the evening stars came out.  I watched children chase fireflies in the lawn.  It was an amazing sight.  So many spectacular things wrapped up in one evening.  At one point I looked out on the dance floor and my three year old granddaughter was there dancing by herself.  The light hit her as though there was a spotlight and she was oblivious to the people around her.  She wasn’t performing, she was dancing  inside the music- so I watched.

(September 2015)

The Question

So filled with grief
a cry of disbelief
“Why” the only question
Why now?
Why me?
Why us?

The answer ever fleeting
Maybe years in the seeing
Why ever?
Why now?
Why us?

The only answer in the present
is in the reaching…
stretching for…
the one who has shaken hands
……with grief.
Why Him?
Why them?
Why then?

Drawn to a changing question
for a changing landscape…
Needing people’s hospitality to this
emotion’s withering toll
…holding hope
…Or holding love




The storm is raging
The lightening streaks the sky
When the wind blows down
And the trees fly out of the way
When the water races forth to the sea
And crashes back on to the rocks
We are told to find the silver lining.
But what about the lining of gold…




In Between

In between the cracks
   where the wood doesn’t meet
   …that’s where it fell.
In the dust and the crumbs,
   there it sat like a seed.
Unnoticed the loss
   In the rush and the dark.
In between time,
   Unseen was this place.
Till necessity called.

In between planting and harvest,
In between the speaking and silence,
   between the birthing and dying,
   and the crying and laughing.
A place is discovered that is filled
   …with living.
A space with a spark,
   …in between all the others.
A place in between,
   where the seeds that have fallen
   …take root and are found
   in the prospect of being.


Weathered Barns

The weathered boards of barns
   that have withstood the wind,
      …waiting for another harvest,
         … another planting.

But tilted now, shifted,
   having been pushed for so long,
      …the roofs settling,
         …into their feet.

Their story told,
   and work long finished,
      …they become the seed,
         …to imagine what has been.