Wow what a journey
March marathon’s very last
Day and Word arrived

I feel profoundly
honored and grateful to have
been a part of this

Event, which concludes
with a well deserved round of
Applause for each one

Bravo team! May we
meet again next year, and all
join forces once more.

💕

Sway in the evening
Breeze, under the big maple
A vibrant color

Hammock swings on the
Branch. My feet dangle in sun.
I dream of water

Soon branches will fill
with delicate green buds and
small leaves will open

Seasons are shifting
Today my very first bulb,
yellow crocus bloomed.

Perfect Pancakes

He loves to cook, but
Harold’s maple syrup alone
is the perfect compliment
to his eggs and flour mixes.

So on a Sunday, as is now
tradition, a few times a year,
he meanders over for this rare
and precious treat, for his feast.

In Switzerland there
is a florist I love whose
name translates loosely

“Au Panier Fleuri”
~At the flowering basket~
I love to call for

the most delightful
arrangements. Delivery
to my dear Mother;

who then will take for
me, most exquisite pictures,
of the flower’s lives.

STAINED GLASS

She picks up the page
A thick piece of the white print
making paper, so

Loved. She creases it
like an origami crane,
each fold opened closed,

until the whole page
lays flat covered in raised lines.
Delicately she

paints a mosaic
of bright color pools between
those raised lines, until

the whole page reads like
a gorgeous stained glass pane
full of light, and joy.

💕

This image was created in 2011, of all the folded paper drawings I’ve made it remains my favorite, and is the best example of the process to date.

Grief is a strange thing
Tears don’t alway manifest
Yet sorrow remains
Poignant at odd times

Days of a year have rolled by
as water over rocks
in an Alpine torrent

Not salty or turquoise
as the Mediterranean Sea
but glacial and green
akin to a Vermont snow melt
in a warm breeze.

It’s the missing of his laughter,
the warmth of his smile,
and the tenderness of his heart
that hold me today a year later

And the words of a poem
that gently rock my heart.

In silence the night
Unfolds as stars quietly
bloom in the eastern sky.

Under canopy
the Circus has just arrived.

Performers are ready
for a cheerful crowd.

And my heart? It opens wide to the
delights of this night.

Sleek, stealthily and
wildly graceful, not slight this
bobcat advances.

I can see it thru
the dark pine grove, reminding
me forest is still

ferocious. No sound
across wet leaves this feline
is not passing thru,

It hunts here. Squirrels
took cover. Incredibly
smooth it travels, and

I am simply awed
I caught this slightest motion
in the mossy woods.

Lately it’s two am
A warm breeze blows thru the yard.
Luna is older.

She and I walk in
the night.

We star gaze thru the
trees.

To our greatest joy,
we witness the huge crescent,
of the brightest
completely orange
half moon.

Anticipation

First green shoots herald
the new season - daffodils
announce themselves now.

In full chirp and cheer
Robins have definitely
arrived. With glee they

bounce across the grass
still filled with foamy snow melt.
Matted fields welcome

them. Twigs, sticks and all
manner of debris litter
the freshly revealed

landscape. In a month
nature will finally weave, all her fun
party clothes together.

Tulips from the Von Trapp Greenhouse, Waitsfield Vermont

Spring

It’s 6:42 in the evening
sun is still filling the deck.

Rays are slow to set
behind the maples
whose sap has risen at last!

A vibrancy fills
every breath of air.

Spring fever surrounds
us all.

Without a care she
gazes at the mossy spot
beneath the first snow melt,
and sighs a sigh of
relief, for winter still here,
has finally left.

Red Horizon. See
the line between heavens? She
calls all sunsets home

Migration

Today I heard them
loud and clear across melting
Snow. Their echo long
In the distance calls:
We are back, we are back, spring
Is around the bend.

Their flight spans miles in
orderly formation they
travel, reminding
us of strength in team
work, and safety in numbers,
defiant and free
they find familiar
nesting ponds; hope carried on
fiercely open wings.

Odd

With a plethora
of meanings, no one would find
it odd I could not
choose one. So I wrote
awkwardly against all odds
a short odd poem.

⭕️

In the squall I see
you clearly in the distance,
as Giacometti.

Fleeting magic your
unique, tiny contour, braced
against incoming

storm and deep wind gusts;
carefree your silhouette one
with the sideways snow.

Her wedding poem

Twirling sunny day
Cherished timeless ode to a
Roadside goldenrod

Fendant grapes abound
Golden nectar flowing wild
Simple moment joy

Memories of now
Twenty years ago! Seasons
Where did they all fly!?

Robins herald Spring
Chickadees announced winter
Barred Owl calls in March

Goshawks soon arrive
Nuthatches are here to stay
Juncos come and go

To each a season
To each a time and greeting
A familiar chirp

A lively bunch, crows
and ravens too, surrounding
world of you and me

Curled up fire side
After a week of battling
Mind cosy at last

💕

Woodstock 1969
River was her name. She flowed
like rain, her long mane

waving behind her
in a rhythm all her own
rolling like thunder,

Her heart one with each
drum beat, water splashing, a
river under feet.

Handwriting

Little boundaries
loose or free, time eternal
flows in handwriting.

Still, I hand write my
friends, especially Barry,
long hand letters, yet

lately I stencil,
words of hope on tiny squares,
neat alphabet curls,

inspiring much joy;
clearer than my handwriting,
scribbled in sharpie,

remains organized
yet playfully energized,
stencil holding me.

The Milky Way

She often said I
was made of stars. Star dust she
would whisper softly

She joined him on a
wave off the Oregon coast
From here I can see

them together now
as they dance on windy tops
sparkling in moonlight.

On the other hand
my father’s turn came last March
deep in the Swiss Alps

Where are we from, we
would ask him as children? A
twinkle in Dad’s eye.

Forever now he
remains the twinkle in my
crisp clear baby blues.

(Forever now he
remains the twinkle in the
near by Milky Way)

Crossroads

At the first ring I
Answered the old fashion phone
Now each night I sit

at this place between
yesterday and today, in
hand modern device

refreshing the page
at the crossroads of many
Imagination

Feverishly type
at the first sign of the prompt
tomorrow’s missives

It’s with sheer delight
this crossing comes to be my
most energized act

In an endless loop
Heart strings, drums and saxophones
Bring on the old blues

Watery eyes in
a palette of indigo
Turn whiskey sour blues

Cerulean skies
Now far up from the bayous
Mountain side all blues

A Universal
Tune sung in deep grieving cords
Shades in today’s blues

At Infinite depths
Cobalt and crimsons ring in
this fair night time blues

Finally the blues!
Stars arrive in waves sail to
Freedom on the blues

Musings on ice

Fifty two degrees
Skaters exercise caution
As Ice starts to melt.

Coyote tracks shine bright
A ray of sunlight across
the floating ice pond.

In-line out of line
Lines flow as tiny fissures
Widen the river.

Une Channe

Elegance and grace
abundance overflowing
Swiss pewter Pitcher.

Imagine magic
Fields, one hand filled with peonies
Vineyards and dry sun

And yes, from Vermeer
to Rembrandt water flows. In
clay Cezanne’s wine

is kept. I grasp at
last the openings I have
been missing. It is

interconnected
we strive together to reach
creativity.

March yields a moment
just at twilight, when spring is
announced in the dim.

It is a time when
hope holds hands, hearts unfold, and
piles of ice glow wild.

Tiny house: in fall
the selection is ruthless
I kept the Jade plant

Braided money tree
made the cut, geraniums
not so lucky joined

the compost bin I
tend with devotion into
Spring. Aloe Vera,

Avocado tree,
Both froze after many a
Ice Season. Soon time

for Greenhouse visits.
Return to Dandelion
Acres start fresh.

Soon! This Houseplant
Will join deck pots, gleefully
Bask in fresh sunlight.

Mind unravels wise
pearls. Quietly as conch shells
spiral, madness grows.

Night sinks soul. At dawn
the Apex out of control.
Giant waves over
each grain roll, as brain
on overdrive struggles to
center, see, and be.

In comes Poetry
as Remedy. Precision
tool counts. Calming Sea.

Unfazed her petals
lean stretching their green steams, to
the dark midnight sun.

Dazzling

In the spot light she
pirouettes to dazzling heights
while we sit zazen

Still Lives so brilliant
In silence gently quiver
Piero by their side.

Sheathed her knives do cut
Right to the core revealing
Nature’s mysteries.


Doorway

Light shines through the glass
Curtain sways to summer breeze
Flowers grace her deck

If one had to guess
who will come through next, to sit,
for tea, for neighbors

near and far have not
crossed paths, pandemic you see
closed garden gateways.

I’d say it would be
thee, crossing the stone arc at
the edge of my woods,

Rising to see from
hammock chair I would, whole heart,
Delighted, greet thee.

Yesterday’s prompt howls
Branches crack, nests hang balanced
I can hear the moon

Darkness has a loud
Voice. The plough person we love
Prepared us, for worse.

With gale force strength, ice
Whips into boiler plate, no
room, errors fatal

Winds excite this night
interminable the wait
Yet Spring will come, in

Time. Winter rises
Sugar’s sweetest gift: Maple
Snow, and Vermont’s hearts.

Water, sand and snow
Sahara to the Arctic
Twirl around my heart

Up down and sideways
From leaf to peak, shinning sea
Lift waves up to thee

In elegant glee
Clouds roll through a thunderstorm
Rejoice free to be.

Delicate

An ocean of moon light
Fills her silver hair

Wind picks up
Colorful prayer flags

A candle flickers
In her night

Pine branches sway
Fragrant and free

A mid a sea of winter green
A bell tolls in the distance

Her heart set
On healing she looks up

At all the stars of midnight

Golden Sands

Golden sands travelled
Yesterday
Rose in the winds
They blew two
Thousand miles
Three
Thousand kilometers
From the Sahara desert to Switzerland
Floating so many on the wind
They turned the skies
Gold
A shade of yellow
Like a summer storm
Before the lightening
Rose
Saved in a little jar
Reminiscing, love
Of a trip
A token returned
Still here
Forty years
Her teenage years
When the snow turned gold
Yesterday

COMING SOON Starting March 1st 2021 I will add one image a day to this gallery, and sometimes if inspired a poem as well.

You can donate to support "March Arts Marathon is a fundraiser for Asylum Seekers Assistance Network (ASAN), a project of CVRAN"

at this link

https://cvran.org/hope-rose/

Heartfelt thank you for sharing this journey <3