Who are you? – sometimes you whisper with the moon

I wasn’t going to write this morning, for no

We rose to the occasion that we carved for

Take the first small step, the one that is

Mesmeric – my image – transfixed and unaware; beauty always the

Oh pain, how I would sidestep thee to a

GHOSTS Just like the tormented dead

We are ever teachable — each living breathing moment

Revolve Reluctantly, my little girl asks

We three (then four, five) at the table as