stooping
to sweep up glass-
a middle class woman

under yellow grey clouds
pink flowers fill branches
and lay out
a blanket before me...
I ask not what but who?

cradling her daughter-
her own mother
lives again

grandma speaks
and silence descends
on the rest of us-
her calm, centered voice
tickles my mind

off to Lilly's
fifth birthday
in Saturday clothes-
I leave my watch
at home


my son dons
a bright red jacket
and a party smile-
seeing myself
age two

dark winter eve-
through cottage windows
blazing fires
shed light onto the
night snow

sugar rush
hits my empty spot-
feeling inflated


icy winter eve
in an Austrian coffee house-
the preacher and Emmanuel
drink together
from the same cup

Crossing the border of my garden, my son ventures into the overgrowth. Bare feet tread on sticks and spiderwebs among the smell of damp weeds.

sun shining through thickets
forming shadows and sunbeams
warm on my cheek
I pause...
feeling my happy childhood

massaging my mind
on a sleepy train ride...
a gentle accent

cool, calm jazz-
my suitcase handle
extended upright

on this couch after a
long, hard day...
radio operas
flood out
work dreams

After the week's work is done
And the kids are fed and bathed and sleeping:
In this warmth with all of you,
I am a child again.

perched on a gum branch
this autumn afternoon...
the moon

late night study...
the smell of new leather
on my shoe