Like Fruit

Image result for old writing

Like Fruit

We cannot rest
until each word,
like fruit,

is harvested,
from these branches,

bright apples
pregnant with ink,
sugar, wet and sweet.


Broken Crayons

My kids are growing up far too quickly. My daughter is living on her own and my son will be leaving for college in just a few short years. Kinda sad.

Image result for old crayons

Broken Crayons

Stored in a coffee can
on an attic shelf
where mice scurry

through dust
and the darkness
is heavy with heat.

Each color has its own voice,
yesterday’s melodies,
silly arguments:

the proper hue for frogs
and superheroes,
peanut butter

is the best part
of jelly.


A Poem

Here’s my philosophy on poetry. Well, it’s an admirable explanation of why I tend to write short poems. Besides, I don’t have time to write much more (and I’m really not all that smart).

Image result for marble toy

A Poem

like a marble,
a trinket

in a child’s hand;
if considered,

one might
discover forever

among the colored