Today I am honored to have a poem of mine appearing at Burnside Writer’s Collective. Thank you for following me and my poetry over there. Follow the bread crumbs, well on second thought, just click this link. The poem is entitled “Intimacy”. May you discover and come to know God in all his magnificent beauty and love, power and strength in new ways. Always. But especially in these days, leading up to Thanksgiving. Counting gifts. The sea and salt, yes they are two of the grandest gifts of all, to me.

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Discover more writing on faith at Burnside Writers dot com.

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Soulful Sunday

My eyes have seen the light
Dancing like flashing Christmas lights
At Lowe’s
Late August
Walking on water, sparkling
Diamonds under glass at the jeweler’s on King
Twitchy  groom making his selection
From the choice of rocks and chips
Mid-day fireworks on display
Fall jump-started herself
Showed up early
Sunshine played a symphony
He says
It is the prettiest day of the year
Until you both realize he is right
Subjective, perspective
We pass almost no other
Just we two
For awhile
After we sang
“They’ll know we are Christians By Our Love”
Standing in an old white church
Could it be this includes
The way we love God art
This was before  he placed
The gifts from the sea
Battered up
Into the pan
Caught with his hands
This was before
Statistics on the couch
And feeding the dog
At 17 you can choose math over
And we missed all the fuss and grinding
On the boob tube
Mother called it that
Now maybe it really is
This was before night fell
With a blackened promise
Of healing hands and new Monday’s
Come after soulful Sunday’s
That preacher sure did nail it
Words about lifting up
If Sunday had hands, a pitcher’s  grip
A steady grasp
Toned biceps
And a six-pack
I could swear it raised me up
You are something else.

the nets - mcvl at  night the mary margaret

Joining Laura Boggess,  Jen ,  Heather and Michelle

Paris Comes To Me

night on the water

Paris Comes To Me

And not even if the boat were bigger

Nor if the moon was  any rounder

Not if the air was any crisper

Could this night  be more splendid

We agreed it felt like Maine, though we have never been

So much of what we know and love will only be here

We may not pack a bag or sail away

Even for our 25th

But if we stay right here, exceedingly content is my middle name

I wear it on the nights like this

And you are owl and I am the pussycat off in a pea green boat

But ours is shades of blue

No small detail is lost on us

This night

For though I dream of Paris

To walk the streets I did for a year in  ’78 and ‘ 79

I could not breathe in

More fragrant joy than


Place that feels like mine

What I inhale  in this small creek into every pore and place


The one that spills with laughter, wine and wind

Love into the waterway

Under skies all shades of grey, pink peeks out, the sun and moon wink and nod

And we go home and wonder

One to the other

Could it be more magical than this

I long now for the nights

When Paris came to me

Pluff mud, shrimp boats, and clammers returning with their haul

These are not the Seine or my Boulevard Malesherbes

Maybe home was meant to hold you

And tie an  anchor to your soul

Love so blind we could not leave

Only off  each night in our petite  blue boat

Exceedingly content, my middle name

Before the one you gave to me those 25 years ago.