Trees rustling, disturbed by Wind’s persistence.

Creek’s night-time chatter muffled.

Cujo – all 12 pounds – barks indignantly at the wind, trees, and chimes

Disturbing the night.


Mother’s Day

Part I

I wrote about Mother’s Day, but the draft was lost.

Perhaps the Universe was suggesting I release the hurt, anger, and disappointment that so often accompanies these parents’ days?


Part II

I am neither mother nor wife.

I do not need these roles

to define me,

to structure my existence,

to validate my being,

except when I do.

Part III

I am ok,

as is.