The land that I love

I could stand to go home. To sit and watch the rain with you. This great wind couldn't keep me from the land I love. A land of towering, majestic Redwoods and the mighty Pacific Ocean. I could spend my days wandering your rocky shores and meandering through your dense forests.

For now, I'll sit here. Alone with my thoughts. Accompanied by the ferocious wind howling outside. Wishing I could sit here and write all day, but realizing that at this point in my life, writing doesn't pay the bills. It simply gets me through the day.

Poetry in Starbucks - a collection of visible words and not-quite tangible thoughts

Hoping out of bed and thinking about one thing: gifts that unite. From Africa to Africa: gifts from your favorite places. Christmas blend: gifts, but with a purpose. As if the purpose of giving wasn't purpose enough. Shade grown: like the confusion and bitterness that recently started accumulating near the tree in the backyard and also noticeable in parts of my heart.
What you said was true: I do worry too much. I wear worry on my heart and on my sleeve. I hand it out like candy at a Fourth of July parade. It's the stone I'm holding onto; the deathgrip that doesn't want to let go.

Mt Ashland by moonlight

It seems as if all the world should be quietly slumbering, as we sit here on this snow-covered mountain. The fog is hovering above the valley, but we've chosen to rise above it all. We've managed to escape and here we are, you and me and this mountain that welcomes us with open arms. Up here there are no worries, only the stars awaiting the moon's arrival out of the fog. If we stayed here long enough, we could watch the sunrise. Come morning, we'll be long gone and the memory of what was will be as bleak as the view of this mountain from my bedroom window.