Poem: friendsgiving

I’m thankful for:



trees & tendrils

plants in pots, in my household and not



rivers I have loved


hills and boulders

mountains, near and far


having had relationships with 2 grandparents


living in Maryland

Loch Raven forest

Cali (1939–1998)

Rosemary (1917–1998)

Heidi (c. 1976–1994)

having known Paul W (1968–1993)

poetry in translation

salamanders in the Smokies

earthworms everywhere

golden afternoon sunlight


“occasional spiders”




pretty colors


the kindness of strangers

walking in darkness


serendipity  /  synchronicity  /  surprise

being me






Poem: nomen * nature

My name?

I’m going to have to spell it:

F, as in frog



D, as in dandelion

H, as in honeybee


G, as in garden

L, as in lizard


S, as in spider




It was 4 years ago today that I wrote my first poem in 31 years.

Yesterday I encountered ‘31’ twice (which I enjoyed because it’s a prime number), but entirely missed this synchronicity with my poetic history.


Poem: Questions for the spider on my car, on a spring afternoon

Wow, what handsome black and white markings!

Do you mind if I take your picture?

Oh, um, you seem really interested in the arc of the driver’s side door.

Would it be too much trouble to move up or down —

Just a little bit! — so I can open the door?


I’ll drive slowly.

I wish I could speak Spider.

Wait, maybe not.

I wish I could speak Spider Trade Language.


Does this particular spider live in my car? Or on it?

(That would be really cool.)


Do spiders even need Trade Language?

Well, how do they communicate with each other?

Tapping on web strands, maybe, Morse-code style?


Do communal spiders just show up and start working together —

Making clear their collegial intentions?

Or do they signal each other with legs or limbs?


Hey, you survived the drive to the Post Office!

Excellent news.


What kind of spider are you?

What do you eat?

Do you have a web?

If you live in or on my car, is it a congenial home?

What do you do with yourself when the car is moving?

How fast can the car go without knocking you off?


Ooooh, I don’t see you on my door anymore.

I hope you’re safely ensconced somewhere out of sight.

Take care!

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Poem #58, written 4.26.2014