One homemade heart
trimmed in frilly,
white lace,
One arrow,
one promise
of a sweet,
warm embrace…
Once it’s notched,
drawn,
and trained
on his chosen bullseye,
Cupid first
blows a kiss,
and then
lets
it
~~~ fly ~~~
One homemade heart
trimmed in frilly,
white lace,
One arrow,
one promise
of a sweet,
warm embrace…
Once it’s notched,
drawn,
and trained
on his chosen bullseye,
Cupid first
blows a kiss,
and then
lets
it
~~~ fly ~~~
Words fail
to make the leap from grey matter
to tapping finger tips on keys
they say
“It’s because of Mercury”
they say
“the planet is retrograde”
they say
“that makes it a poor time for all forms of communication”
WHEW
thank the planetary gods
it’s NOT my muse gone mute Continue reading
As the sun sets behind this stretch of the Pacific Coast Ranges, a mountain chain that stretches from Alaska to central Mexico, I not only wonder,

but marvel at Continue reading
The ageing comedian, known the world over for his slapstick parodies, brushed past me in the pre-dawn chill to take his place in the crowd queuing up to board the British Airways flight from Edinburgh to London. I have packing my warm jacket in my checked luggage to thank for our chance encounter. Had I not hung back to keep warm in the stairwell, I’d have totally overlooked him.
As it was, before I could react beyond the chuckle that stretched my lips straight and crinkled the corners of my eyes, the bobbing head, tucked under his signature pork pie hat, disappeared into the forward motion of the crowd. Continue reading
Highland sheep dotted the roadside under the pre-dawn sky. The velvet canopy looked like flocks of faeries had tossed fistfuls of glitter at the new moon only to have it stashed inside the Big Dipper and then purposefully strewn across the Milky Way by their extraterrestrial counterparts so that this tiny group of earthlings might stand in awe of the universe’s expansive beauty from the gravel car park at the foot of Beinn Hiant, Scotland’s Magic Mountain*, the highest hill on the Ardnamurchan peninsula.
The bulky behemoth’s size was clear from the patch of twinkling stars that it blocked from sight. The mountain is touted as being an easily manageable ascent in the tourist guides, but for the out-of-shape slug I’d recently become, I viewed watching the sunrise with my retreat companions after a seventeen-hundred-foot hillwalk more like an expedition up Everest. Continue reading
Once the morning sun broke through the clouds, the grey mist pulled back from Glenborrodale’s ragged shoreline’s nooks and crannies. It rose from the loch like a gossamer shade tugged from the edge of a wooded windowsill revealing a beauty distinct to the Scottish Highlands.
The atmosphere immediately hugs you in a warm tartan of peace and tranquility, lore and legend. It begs you to use words like fancy, toadstool, and porridge.
With a fortnight to go until Halloween Continue reading
Ichiro snores. The fog horn blows. My feet are cold and the fragrance of lilies on the kitchen counter drifts into the living room where I stare at the precarious position of my teacup on the edge of the coffee table while pondering this run on sentence the here and now.
Well, maybe not so much the here (sitting on a chair, in my living room, in my house, in California, on the continent of North America, on the planet Earth), as the now: this minute, this second, Continue reading

There’s something surreal about spotting a row of paw prints the size of cast-iron skillets stamped in the snow thirty feet from where you’ve been sleeping. Continue reading
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