All Hollows Gift

Chill in the Air

Dry, cold, whipping breeze

Clear sky, black pricked with light

Leaves cartwheel along the empty walk

Branches reach, snatch at my hair and my cloak

Expanse ahead, a sandy beach

Water, small ripples, no tide

Slicing, flashing, flickering light

A full moon low in the sky

Sweet sound, low mewling, hard to find

Shrouded in shadow, dark as the night, yellow eyes

A kitten calling

Shivering, damp, in the palm of my hand

Wrapped up in the edge of my cloak

Retreating, not thinking, scurrying out of the wood

To get home.

Come and go


A number of things come and go

Illness, pain, tears

Laughter, loss, love

Some say, “They come when they’re ready and go when it’s time.”

Others believe you make it.

I say, one cannot be without the other.

You work hard make it and it finds you when you’re ready.

You struggle hard to release it and it leaves you when it’s time.

Can you find yourself without work?  Can you let go of hurt with out struggle?

Will it come if you will it?  Will it leave if you wish it so?


Not without awareness.  Self preservation.


Commitment. Concessions.

Acceptance and Growth.

Busy Being Them


Can there be an explanation for everything?

A basic reason why that is

Our trumpeting truth with which

Knocks away the dusty deniers

Ridiculous liars

And the ugly clowns that come with them?

Can there be just coincidence?

A meeting of minds that contains

The combination of elements creating what is

Our awareness, but not our truth

Our ability to look back, but not within

Our incessant need to explain, but not understand

Our fervor for correction, but not acceptance.

Will there be us?

Just being us?

Or will we be too busy being them?