Sweet Wonder

Sweet Wonder I am grateful for a lemon knowing  its bitter-bright fresh worth and  knowing too how to catch the eye of cinnamon’s ‘hello there.’ I am grateful for the way that chemistry welcomes -ish (up to a point—as science is science and has reason keeping watch); for the resistance of dough that welcomes my…

House by the Sea

A House by the Sea Some days, I’m telling you, there’s a house that’s calling me— with iris and daffodils and a view to the sea. Some days I’m telling you, there’s a room that’s calling me— with books and a wingback and a hot cuppa tea. This and that plates and patterns, but clean,…

To be Around when Peace Blooms

To be Around when Peace Blooms I am finding it hard to sit still within,to settle into praying for peace;of course I want it for us all,but honestly, I have more to say…There areso many other wordswithin me.So I hope you don’t mindif I just talk for a while.Thank you—I do love you.Here’s the thing:…

Under the Over

Under the Over As enamoured as I amof words, syllables, sound, and line,the cataract can swallowmy attention to say nothingof my interest and underthe over rushing currentsI wander in another world,walking on the silt soft floor,welcomed by lifeunnoticed above. I do not forget this freedomwhen called to surface.It is the smile tuckedin the curl of my…

Advent IV, 2021

Advent IV, 2021 The quiet invites… O earthen comet,history made visible and witnessof tomorrow’s wonder,Breathe with me, be at easehere, at ease here…letfeeling enfold you and take onyour tears of knowingthe weight and the graceof this journey’s fullness. O streak of stardust and love,let silence soften the edges around you,leaving room for storiesto settle, to…

Advent I, 2021

Advent I, 2021 There is a momentbetween the strike, the flash,the wick, and the flameand that moment is a movement toward,a drawing near enough to singe into beingso that others might see, might come to know. The candle does notlight herself in the crisp-edged quiet;Someone must tell the story that flares brightly. Kimberly M. King

Poetry in Stride

When I was a kid, I used to sometimes make lunch for myself according to what I thought went with the book I was reading at the time. I suppose it was a way to steep even more in a world I was enjoying. If I’m honest, I still do that sometimes. That aspect of…

In the Kitchen Chapel

In the Kitchen Chapel I stood in the middle of a kitchen filledwith rhythms and rites and texturesthat soothe like prayer does.Rising like incense from a thurible panfull of chilis and smoked paprika,onions and garlic and grace and a couple of shallots.A small dice with a sharp knife, a blessing sought,a scrape toward a surface…