Because Good-bye is too Cliche’


Nature touches us the same
but you are blind in my world,
and I am a misfit in your circle

of circles, of circles, of circles.
You perceive me as complicated
and deep, but I am as simple as
red earth and blue sky.

You self-proclaimed wise child,
look, I wear too many clothes to fit
in among bare-breast middle-agers
and bare-bottom moon gods.

My vehicle is too “narrow”
for a wide, multi-lane highway
to deathbed look-backs and women
who wish they had danced.

You belong among temple dwellers
and incense drinkers, among searchers
and seekers of the “hidden” while I
am a sparrow’s sister.

My mind has traveled with you,
with others. I have tasted eastern fruit
and desert laws, but find my solace

in holding hands.

Gift of Labor


Ripping a barn down

with a crowbar and hammer

is better than yoga


for helping a person

learn to see, and to breathe,

and to enjoy being.


The sound of Kentucky rain

splattering coveralls and planks

is a spirit symphony


and the smell of moist earth,

red clay mud and lingering

autumn leaves is aroma therapy


that cannot be replicated

nor purchased at outlet stores;

this oneness, peace,


that comes with stiff muscles

and wind-reddened cheeks

is a by-product of a love affair


between a woman

and her land.