Feathers—blue, red, yellow—
Lift from green gables, and
I know for a moment or two:
Gravity’s just an agreement
Heaven and earth have made to
Try and feel the in-between.



Tea steam lifting from my cup,
I watch slender ice tendrils
Melt and drop from treetops—
Even as I write they drop.



(How many of us have been told “what goes around comes around?” I once had an ER doctor say that to me, of all people. I’ve never liked the statement, to be honest. It’s tautological and seems to serve no other purpose than to foster a defeatist attitude of helplessness in the face of life’s often-confusing matrix of choices and outcomes. The following acrostic poem is for anyone who has felt abused by the concept of karma.)

Know that you are not being punished but
Accept the consequences of your actions,
Recognizing that we all make mistakes and
Merit mercy the moment we allow love to
Awaken our hearts and absolve our minds.