wet footsteps on the floor cotton clouds the magic of music handcuffs the soul providing anywhere travel with eyes closed the heart steers without disappointment onto a wide porch waiting for sunset lightening bugs send signals to the fortunate the best place to be is the one they dream of  


Night pushed in. Cool air brushed over me. Crickets start. Clouds look cold. Shadows fade. Porch lights start. Empty swings. Windows close. A cat sits by the door. A few leaves fall. Toys in the yard. The last slivers of dusk. A screen door closes. Laundry on the line. Baseball on the radio. A distant … More LIGHTS OUT


I am a traveler within the space familiar to me.  The area surrounding, the region full of what I know best and how I appear to others and myself. This land is of my youth; tree swings, paths toward home and back doors always unlocked. Windows blossom with curtains and flowers pots in need of … More THIS PLACE