248 :: 12 Years


There we were
12 years ago,
leaping into the unknown.

Before these little lives
were entrusted to us.

And then they came
needing us
so entirely —

and as we gave ourselves to them,
we found ourselves


238 :: Pink Clouds


I see you sitting
in a tree
and calling out to me.

You want to be sure
I see you —
and I see the place you have reached.

You want to be apart
and witnessed.

* * *

Now you are far away.
I cannot see you
or the tree in which you’ve built your nest.
I hear only stories
and echoes.

You say you have found
someone to be your witness there.
But I hear a voice telling you where to place each foot,
directing you so loudly —
the sound travels across the continent.

And I remember,
so clearly,
the way you knew how to find your own way
into the tree tops
as a child.

* * *

Go back.
Go home.

Your tree still grows
and you will find your familiar seat,
deep within its branches.

Illuminated by pink clouds.

221 :: Beautiful Dreamer


All day long I’ve been thinking this thought: Pay attention to the images that bring you joy.

This one does.

And then my friend, Jenny, shared this poem with me:

Song for a Fifth Child
by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton

The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
For children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.

216 & 217 :: Waves


That light again.
And the soft haze of an almost setting sun
on their skin
in the waves.

Watching little him
discovering the world of water
and sand.


I wish I could bottle it up
and I try — with a photo.

But no,
being here
on the beach
in August —
this is enough.