The magic comes
in the form of gifts
I don’t know how to accept.

A blue jay clings to my office window,
a remarkable feather lays in my path,
the writing comes so easily.

I take them, apologize,
forget to show gratitude
until it’s probably too late.

Then the silence arrives.
No birds. No words.
I worry the magic is angry.

Right when hope fades,
the magic reappears.
The bird always returns.

There’s a story there

I was walking to my parked car the other day and looked up to see this red balloon stuck in a red tree. It looked so beautiful, and I thought, “There’s a story there.” The kid with her balloon after the birthday party, so outraged that with just one slip of her fingers, the tree took her balloon and wouldn’t give it back. Or perhaps she gave it to the tree, said, “Catch!” When she let go, the tree actually did what she asked it to. Maybe every time she walks by now, she smiles.


This picture is how I remember my childhood. I don’t know who this girl or dog is, but I’m struck by how deeply this photo reaches into me. I remember escaping into sleep, finding bliss in the rhythm of a dog’s heartbeat. Welcoming the bug crawling up my arm, honoring her curiosity. I lay in the fields near our house daydreaming about other places, other people who would love me, who would tell me I was okay and that I could be beautiful.

Blank Canvas

This week I built an eight foot by three foot canvas with my dear friend who is an artist. She is going to paint a picture for me that means a lot to both of us, something beautiful and spiritual and sisterly.

The process of making the canvas with her was so rewarding. We had a saw, drill, staples, canvas stretcher, and countless brackets and screws. What started out as piles of materials was, within a few hours, transformed into a blank canvas.

After we were done, we stood back and admired our work. She quickly grabbed a pencil and started sketching the shapes. And I found myself overcome with excitement for her, for art, for the potential made by creating something out of nothing. No matter how the painting turns out (thought I am sure it will be in-cred-ible), that canvas will always have a bit of magic in it for me.