When One's Not Writing Poems - And

Inside My Mother's Death / I Lay And Could Not Breathe.

Unless The Gentle Inherit The Earth, / There Will Be No Earth.

Gardening Is A Madness, A Folly That Does Not Go Away With Age. Quite The Contrary.

Women's Work Is Always Toward Wholeness.

The Ambience Here Is Order And Beauty. That Is What Frightens Me When I Am First Alone Again. I Feel Inadequate. I Have Made An Open Place, A Place For Meditation. What If I Cannot Find Myself Inside It?