Music. It expresses when my mind is too tired to form poetry and my finger are too tired to type all the words.

I’m watching the end of Dreamgirls, when Curtis sees Effie’s little girl and realizes what he’s lost. After Effie spent years coming back from the pain of giving her heart to him only to be passed over for someone else.

And just like she sang to Curtis….

Effie won. In the end, she won.


Today I Am Still


Today I am still.  My phone works, tomorrow is payday, and Saturday I get to spend some time with a friend of almost 35 years.  My car works, I have caffeine in my Yeti, and I have been listening to encouraging music while working.  I am still.  Content in this moment.  I would say that very few emotions are swirling or whirling.  I simply am.

Last night it was not so.  Last night, had I had the energy to get up and dig out my laptop to write, I would have filled the page with raw emotion that may or may not have been cohesive. In fact, I composed on imaginary paper in my head, and filled it with my innermost feels, and hopes, and hurts, and longings with fairly eloquent words, given that they were not actually written down anywhere.

Now, though, I cannot recall them.  I recall the theme.  I recall that there were tears in my eyes, and I was silently crying out as I pretended to write.  I know there were things I wanted and hoped for and felt like giving up on and regretted and couldn’t let go of.  But trying to pull them out from under the calmness of today seems tiring.  Or maybe it seems perilous.

The days, you see, are very full.  I have a career, a family, a life, stresses, duties, pursuits.  They all fill that thing that needs to be filled.  And there is music or television or – Lord help us all – Pokemon Go (smile).  But at night…. well, at night when there is nothing engaging on television, and sleep won’t come, and the brain begins to think….

But never mind that.  Today I am still.

Sleep Well


She sleeps better beside him.

She sleeps best when her head is curled into his chest, and his arm is around her, along with a leg thrown carelessly over.

Her rest is sweetest when it is punctuated with the sound of his silent inhale and and funny puff of exhale, sometimes with a tiny snore.

Her dreams are most peaceful when she can feel him at her back.  And when they are scary, the fear instantly subsides when she can roll over and touch him.

Slumbering deeply for hours…it happens most often when her body is in total relaxation after being tangled with his.

Yes, she sleeps better with him.

That is probably why she dreams of him every night.

His Roar


I love it all

The quickening intensity

The drop in the pitch of his voice

The flexing of muscles

The dilation of black swallowing blue

The tautness that begins in his cheeks and spreads to his mouth

But most of all

At the culmination

I love his roar

The final, primal pronouncement

That he is man

And I am woman.

It is the sound of power and claiming

And intimacy and lust

And joining flesh and hearts.

It is his roar

And when it fills my ears

I soar.