“The reason birds can fly and we can’t is simply that they have perfect faith, for to have faith is to have wings.” —J.M. Barrie When the swallow sings A wonderful thing Spring chance Graceful tapered wings Aerial flight, feathered king Sky dance A wonderful thing When the swallow sings Romance * * … More Swallows
All night, owls hid and wolves trembled while the wind howled and hurled its icy breath over the world until the pale sun cast its cold still light over white laced hills, and the day shimmered, brighter than in summer. * * * “Ice Storm” (Reprinted from Dreams of a Wingless Child, … More Ice Storm
beneath city’s feet cavernous niches of life light just a little * * * Underground life — “beneath city’s feet” Haiku poem by Mary O’Connor; photo of iguana on RR trestle by Mary O’Connor; © 2018
It is tempting to believe, once the year is ended, once the page is turned, that we will move on to a new and more ordered life—and it will be different. For a while, you might think so. * * * New Year’s Promise — Photo and poem by Mary O’Connor. Poem reprinted … More New Year’s Promise
for all Route 91 Harvest Festival victims they were holding hands they were dancing they were singing when the shots rang out Get down! Oh, God! it happened so fast all within seconds I can’t feel my legs I never left her side I love you, Laurie. I … More Pieces of Las Vegas
You know how jellies are. Those gummy boneless bodies without any eyes, not even a brain, carried along with the tide, who knows why or if they have a purpose. Think what it must be like. How might they know where they are when they barely distinguish light, or that it’s night or that … More Jellies
The hummer is a precious gift. Lighter than an ounce with feathers, gowned in glittering and iridescent robe, rubies red at its neck, it hovers and hums through life. Some call them sacred as they pause above fragrant altars of time, sipping the essence of life through the straw of their long beaks, … More To hum
Just to look─ to look at the sea, to follow its comings and goings, is to see beyond memory, beyond life, before and after the beginning of death. Just to think─ to think about the sea, to ponder its waves, is to find there is more, more than souls can account for, than every … More That Is Enough
Lined up along the ledge, above the streets and gutters where they huddle together, tucking their beaks under blankets of dirty wings, until nodding and bobbing their heads, they take up the spin of the world turning round— and return to the spoils of the street, eyes rimmed red. * * * Street life — Poem and photo … More Street life
It was a day when the ocean lay still, merging its salty wetness with the dank side of the sky and the air was thick with fish, so thick that you could see them—in full color, I might add—darting and turning through the edges of waves before losing their way in the deep. There were … More Counting fish
Life Is Full of Sweet Spots 