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Small Wonders

Little things noticed along the way.

Iris as a baby touching her father’s nose with pasta sauce on her hands
Iris sitting outdoors in the Scottish Highlands, wearing a green jacket

A Morning on Skye

Allowing time to soften us.
We are strong and fragile,
tiny and giant,
a life and an instant.

If our arms cannot reach the uncontrollable,
our feet always know a dance.
Remembering this.
Forgetting just as much.

Iris as a baby touching her father’s nose with pasta sauce on her hands
Iris sitting outdoors in the Scottish Highlands, wearing a green jacket

The Author, The Camera and The Mirror

In every verse, in every line, I become
an empty leaf, and the words find their axis.

—Poetry keeps writing me.

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