Welcome!

On a journey, ill, and over withered fields/my dreams go wandering -Basho

I am glad to be here and delighted to have the chance to share my thoughts and my writing with all of you. Pull up a chair and watch out for the kettle- he’s a little huffy.


If you’re looking for my books, they’re over here.

If you want to know when a new book will be released, you can sign up for my mailing list here.

If you want to contact me directly, check over here.

If you want a deeper look into how and why I write, take a look at my posts below.

Securing Sunshine

In the oldest forests

a thousand seedlings die

in darkness

When one of the giants falls

there is an explosion

of green things

desperate youth

In these spaces everything

reaches upwards a thousand

faces searching for

light

We all need space to grow

Transitions are both painful and beautiful.


For more stories of light and transition, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

Water Wound

in a land where water

disappears

ponds draw all threads

together

every plant large and small carefully

woven

without regard for their

differences

in a desperate dance of

survival

There are few tapestries as richly varied as the edges of ponds

In the wildlands, water both draws and binds.


For more tales of water, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

Forest Faces

As a small child

I saw faces everywhere

weeping women in the curve of the river

old men in the shadow of twisted bark

As I grew older

there were monsters as well as people

watching carefully for me to stumble

The forest still greets me

with a thousand faces

but I am person

and monster enough

to love them all

What we see is always our own mirror

Even in a landscape devoid of people, we still bring ourselves with us.


For more faces of the human and inhuman, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

The Darling Buds – Forget Me Not

Does the land remember

what came before?

there were forests here once

and after them fields

this little corner now that is

filled with small flowers

how short is the life

of that garden

compared to all of the land’s forms

and yet-

a thousand years from now

maybe this small part of the world

will dream of blue flowers

and be at peace

Forget-Me-Not: Memories

Every May (and sometimes into June), I do a series of poems based on Victorian flower meanings. Welcome to the Darling Buds.


For more memories and persistence, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

The Darling Buds – Cherry Blossoms

Each spring is a classroom

every growing thing shyly emerging

to be taught

the air rich with the scent of learning

of new growth finding

water and sun and sky

hair thick with cherry blossoms

each spring wipes away the old year

and teaches us

hope

Cherry Blossoms – Education

Every May, I do a series of poems based on Victorian flower meanings. Welcome to the Darling Buds.


For more hope and learning, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

The Darling Buds – Marigold

When everything else has died

the marigolds are planted

their leaves too bitter for insects

or maybe they are supposed to be grown

with the crops to protect them

rather than being left

to bloom merrily

amongst the sick-sweet

stench of their rotting

companions

Marigold – Sorrow

Marigolds survive but make it impossible to forget those that did not. Every May, I do a series of poems based on Victorian flower meanings. Welcome to the Darling Buds.


For more tales of survival in the face of sorrow, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

The Darling Buds – Forsythia

Long winters birth meek springs

Buds and blossoms slow to unfurl

cautiously feel their way through the still

frozen nights

But

sandwiched between the forest and the field

there is an explosion

forsythia

rising golden and unafraid

It lives in the future, fearless with

Joy at the tips of branches

Joy as a perfume in the air

Joy in the willingness to stare into the face

of the unknown

and blossom

Forsythia – Anticipation

Every May (and sometimes fashionably late in May because of a lack of blossoms), I do a series of poems based on Victorian flower meanings. Welcome to the Darling Buds.


For more anticipation in the face of danger, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

Prelude

The first steps of leaves

are always fumbling, unsure

Buds spread in every direction

The fine fuzz of birth slowly hardening

into a firmer and less innocent shell

This is the beauty of spring:

it is always somewhere

someone’s first dance

into the sun

The beauty of hope

I love the starting dance steps and the final steps and all the steps in between.


For more dancing, metaphorical and otherwise, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

Sleeping and Waking

Do they dream

those not yet opened buds?

Before there are flowers

do the slow-unfurling petals

imagine the face

of the sun?

What do the buds know of the world they are about to enter?

I’m always fascinated by the giant leap between development and living.


For more waking to mysterious worlds, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.

Scenic

We speak of scenery

as frozen snapshots

moments as beautiful

as they are sterile

stripped of context

and mosquitoes

and there is a difference

I think

between the pinned and catalogued

collection of  distant mountains

of long-passed  perfection

and standing in the messy brush of the sub-alpine

and feeling the mountain

beneath your feet

The world is best experienced by living it

There is a distance created with perfect imagery that loses the true power of imperfect reality.


For more of the imperfect business of living, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.