They Might Be Leaves


They might be leaves
They might be birds
They might be memories
Whatever they might be
I love to watch their drift

and then
the sun moves and
They fly away.

Why I Waited to Jump In


“Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind. “Pooh?” he whispered.
“Yes, Piglet?”
“Nothing,” said Piglet, taking Pooh’s hand. “I just wanted to be sure of you.”

Use Your Inside Light


I like it when the light seems to come from within.

Upon Reflection


Mirror, mirror
on my heart…
How can I tell
these two apart?

Skip, skip, skip to my lu
or run away from home,
treading in depths

Nothing Less


When I open my eyes,
am I praying?
When I focus my words,
am I seeing?
When I listen within,
am I opening?
What do I have
to lose?