To God, who gives joy to my youth. Say it! Say it now...

Who am I to prune the surging crown?

just ordinary sunlight shimmering through a drizzling, autumn rain

if you go to Mass, you hear the near-perfect opening line in the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God

A hymn to mercy and love, “Love Calls Us to the Things of This World” springs to my lips when my heart is quiet. I teach it as often as I can for my introductory poetry students. 

Because this house is a dandelion gone to seed. Fragile and full of possibility.