A Simple Poem, A Simple Life

As a child I wanted things. As a teenager I had irreplaceable things stolen. As a young woman I acquired more and more things. I am no longer any of those things. I now give away things. I like the space created by giving away things. I gave away a classroom full of teacher things. …

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Dancing with Dragonflies

Seeing the perfection of colors blended from earth and sky Hearing the crunch underneath a different song Smelling the sweetness of plants I cannot name Touching the truth of beauty grown not made Tasting the sensation of joy touch my lips Feeling the fabric of separateness begin to tear Releasing the need to need anything …

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Feeling the Squeeze

Over seven million people call the land of the five Cs home. Copper, cattle, cotton, climate, and citrus- the economic foundation that drove the 48th state's early days. Long before copper was used as a conductor of electricity or European settlers began digging for precious metals across this desert land, Native Americans used the pinkish-orange …

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Last Night the Rain Spoke to Me (poetry recitation)

https://videopress.com/v/ibBJste1?resizeToParent=true&cover=true&preloadContent=metadata Poet, Mary Oliver Mary Oliver wrote so many beautiful poems, selecting only one for a Saturday recitation was no easy task. I am most familiar with her poem, "The Journey," however, I enjoy the experience and challenge of learning a new poem a few days before a blog post. My recitation selection, "Last Night …

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Winding Road now Within (video)

I stood at the end of the winding road. Facing her, I admired her curves and tree-lined slopes. Before stepping away, I stretched my arms toward her lifegiving display, drawing in the uplifting energy she so graciously gave during my mountain stay. Like an entire universe contained on the top of a pin, I will …

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a Writer’s reTreat (audio)

Enveloping clouds, across stretched miles โ€“ unseen landmarks and draped blue skies. Tired of staring into the smothering gray. Tired of straining to see what lies beyond a cloak that confuses night with day. She let her heavy lids end the seeking. She filled her lungs: slow, steady, and deep. Exhaling tangled tension and rooted …

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Connected Roots

Golden petals burst from a winding stem, sprang forth from a seed, that wound its way into dry desert dirt. Planted in soil, not of its native origin. Reflective tears burst from the one standing in Sonoran dirt, flowing from a realization, that they are similar, she and the foreign bloom. Rooted in soil, not …

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