Blog #1,500

Damn, my fingers are tired from writing. I’ve been at this for almost eight years. My little blog,, has kept me out of trouble and out of a gang – specifically, the grumpy old men. Old, but irritated. Fifteen hundred blogs measured in snark is equal to a week of Kardashian Instagram postings. How … More Blog #1,500


Reaching 30 is a milestone How your 20s have flown Your mom marvels at how you’ve grown Just yesterday, taking steps on your own Mountains to climb, trails to trek A bucket list to check In the 20s, spreading your wings, gear up The 30s, taking flight, no longer a young pup Be humble at … More 30

Late Winter

The cold hangs tough, even after time springs forward The chill threatens to homestead deep within my marrow A few more robins will boost the morning chorus Songs for survivors, the margin for nature is narrow — In my dreams, I am sailing far away After an interlude of modeling beach swimwear There’s only Key … More Late Winter

Why I Write

People often ask me what I write about. That’s easy to answer. What they should ask is why I write. That’s where the gold is. I write because I’m curious. I’m curious to learn and curious to communicate. All writers have a desire to share a secret. The secret unfolds through words, written or spoken, … More Why I Write

How Can I Be Sure?

There’s a question, circling inside Is this fleeting or a pivotal event? ‘What if’s’ pop like thought-balloons Perplexing, for this eager gent — Lean in, let the sun kiss all this splendor ‘Tis a dream, reality is never so warm I’m spooked, my defenses are down Swallowed whole, consumed by the storm — Life is … More How Can I Be Sure?

Fool’s Gold

From the dark side to the light Tired eyes are slow to adjust Once slipping, now skating away From sawdust to stardust — After the fierce rain, a double rainbow The damp air pops with electricity Bold sunlight divides the blue-gray sky To the heavens, creator of synchronicity — A poor man casts off his … More Fool’s Gold

After the Rain

The cooling rain charges the air Electrifying the fine mist Smoldering clouds boil away Mother Nature’s emboldened kiss — The hammer strikes the heavens My skin is chilly and alive The anger and fury of nature If vengeful, we shouldn’t survive — But we do, perhaps undeserving Birds resume their vocalisation The ground is recharged … More After the Rain