Feb 12


There was a giant ocean of paint
A canvas stroked over and over with the blue from a bottomless can
Patiently, over and over.
The man had been working for days on the masterpiece -
A jewel-colored ocean, and a soft baby blanket-colored sky overhead.
It was to be his first piece to sell in years, as he had hit a dry spot as an artist. 
He stepped back and stared, not quite satisfied, at his canvas.
It was missing something.
Just then, as he was scratching his eyebrow thoughtfully,
His daughter ran into the room,
A bubble of pure, happy, rainbow energy
Knocking over a giant can of bright 
and a small splatter fell onto the beautiful blue.
A gasp. The uncomfortable feeling of silence except the biting of a tongue.
Feb 09

I Hate Winter

Means beaches and sun and vacation. It means swimming and fresh grass and ice cream sandwiches. Rivers and fishing and camping. It means cousins and cold water and awesomeness.
Boy, do I love a good ol' Charleston summer. 
I love the ocean and the beach and biking on the sandy road under baking sun, but in the shade. I love golf carts and the creek and hot dogs and bread for lunch. I love lazing on the screen porch in the morning and then going back into the cold air conditioning. I love going to aquariums and restaurants where you can sit outside under the twinkle lights and eat your lemon chicken. I love everything about Charleston, South Carolina, because it is my happy place.  
Boy, do I hate a good ol' New England winter. 
I hate being cold. I hate dreariness. I hate when you can see the grass through the snow. I hate being stuck inside. It gives me headaches and I get gloomy. I hate waiting, I am impatient. 
Why was I born in Vermont?
Jan 28


O Beast of the tangled wild
O friend in help and hope
You've conquered the shyest child
Teaching them how to learn and cope

Your life has been a patient quest
Of wonderful watching bliss,
I've turned to you in times of test
Knowing but only this:

It is hard to think that people know you
As a product to hurt and hunt,
But in my silver heart that's true,
You are simply
Jan 17

Silent Ocean

What if the ocean was silent?
The hum of never ending crashing waves
Only a small breeze
The silence would cut through the sand
Stirring it up at the slightest touch
And each small footprint on the shore
Would make a slapping, echoing sound
No waves
No noise
No thundering in the background that plugs up your ears
And the splash of an arm in the water
Would stir up a loud swooshing sound
Only heard every so often
If the ocean was silent
The beach would hold secrets
Never to be told.

Jan 10


When you breathe, breathe in happiness,
Thoughts of what you could be if there was peace.
Circle your hand in the water.
It goes around forever, it breathes with you.
If you rest, let your whole body rest.
Lie back into the waves and let them carry you.
This is life. It is yours and it is peaceful. 
Blow bubbles into the water
And play with what the world has given you
Like a dolphin splashing through the waves.
Nothing ends
At the horizon. 
Come back to your roots,
The childhood that you once played in,
Enjoy that forever.
Feel your toes on the sandy, muddy earth. 
Reach out and smile.
You can always come back
To where you once knew what happiness was.
Dive down under the water.
It is there to hold you when you need it. 
Breathe always, 
Balance carries the world on its shoulders. 
Laugh into the wind.
It whips your hair and laughs with you. 
Dec 02

Vermonter magic

A Vermonter can't explain
to anyone else
how they can tell
when it's about to snow.

The sky seems full,
like it just took a huge breath and is just waiting —
waiting! — 

to let it out,
blowing puffs of small magic
down from the sky.

A Vermonter knows
when it is about to snow.
The world is expectant,
the ground is frozen and gray.
But I wonder,
as I stare at the sky and see the silver blanket over the earth,
perhaps it's really
just a Vermonter
who snaps their fingers and says,
that makes the snow fall.
Nov 08

I Wish For The Galaxies

I wish to eat the moon
To feel it's smooth, cold-pudding like taste on my tongue.
It would slip around my mouth like a cool cheesecake,
Like milk chocolate.
It would quench my hunger with the easiness and softness of a spoon of oatmeal,
Washed down with a glass of milk.

I wish to drink the stars
To taste them dripping down my throat
Warm and foggy as hot chocolate
On a cold winter's evening.
Each sticky-smooth drop would ease through my body,
Relaxing me,
Soothing me.

I wish to eat the grandest meal ever eaten,
Sitting upon Venus's rings,
Watching the world spin around
And around. 
Watching a shooting star zip through the sky.
I'd catch it in my fingers
And gulp it down
Bright and spicy as a piece of shrimp,
Then close my eyes and float down along the Milky Way, in a bed as smooth as a snowdrift. 

I wish to spread my hands through the galaxies,
Sep 10

You Looked Kinda Amazing

Your long soft hair was in two buns on the top of your head
Like I've tried to make my hair do sometimes. 
It trailed down in some places, escaping the bonds but someone it looked
That much sweeter
The top of your scalp was scattered with glitter
that spread slowly down your back.
Your long tie-die shirt with the too-long sleeves was just about perfect,
The light colors- pink, yellow, light blue- swirling together in a cotton candy mix. 
You had your big black fan that you would sometimes spread out at random moments and then flash a smile.
And it may sound like I have a crush you but
I really don't.
You just looked

Jul 16


Velvet slips around my fingers
as hard to catch
as a shimmering snake.
Velvet tastes silky on my tongue 
with just the right touch of
Velvet has a certain touch
that rubs on the pads of my fingers as if to say,

Velvet is tricky
yet beautiful, 
clad in velvet,
you deserve respect 
for you have conquered the impossible feat
of velvet.
Jul 06


I wrote this because we might be moving next summer.

The white paint
Still shines brightly and 
If anyone dared to paint it another color
I wouldn't recognize it.
All of the rooms are as familiar as 
An old baby blanket
Keeping me safe
And warm.
It's cluttered,
But messy isn't really the right word
Because everything about it is neat
If you know where to look.
Each piece of furniture
Means something different, something
Every time I see the mosaic above the stove
I remember the fight we had about keeping it or not.
My dad and my sister wanted it,
And my mom and I didn't.
It's still there, though.
And I'm always eternally glad that
We kept it.
The living room has the feeling of 
Many Christmases spent in front of the fire.
I'll see a dog toy on the floor and remember how crazy we thought it was