untangling the web

poetry about and photography of everyday happenings and sights

Category Archives: poetry


by 1 Comment

A Satisfying Morning

Sun low on the horizon,

daffodils shimmering,

grape hyacinths opening,

lily leaves pushing through,

yellow forsythia flowing,

swish of pine needles

on the path, chill air 

on my cheek, jingle 

of the leash, the quiet 

of a Sunday morning.

Delicate tendrils of

weeping willows,

white petals of 

Bradford pears,

ripples on the lake,

and the redbud

producing beauty 

off its gnarled branches.

Raucous voice of 

a lone crow, soft

peeps of birds

foraging, the feel

of my foot as it

hits the ground,

rat-a-tat-tat of

a woodpecker

topped off by

the heron who

flew majestically

up as we neared.


by 2 Comments

A Snowy Morning

The earth was hushed 

that morning and a light

snow was falling, uniting

ground and sky, the still

and the moving, brown and

white. Pine needles on the 

path were covered by snow 

highlighting an intricate 

design like a fisherman’s net 

or spider’s web, an encounter

between life and death. 

The cosmos was showing off

its artistry in twisted bare 

branches, in an ethereal

light on a skim of ice, in

things seldom observed.

Nature was sparking the

imagination with the 

magnificence of creation 

with no intention other

than to simply enchant.


by 3 Comments

Keepers

Note: At a recent meeting of my 70+ (now 80+!) group of women, our assignment was to share “keepers,” in other words moments in our lives, past or present, that brought us joy. Mine are in this poem.

There was the time recently

When Luna and I were on

A visit to the County Jail

And she remembered a

Young man from another

Visit and curled up 

Against him, and when he

Moved on to another dog

She went over and licked 

His ear as if to say, come

Back to me, we have a

Special bond. And he grinned.

And on that same visit I

Can see the tattooed

Young man rolling on

The floor with a blind

Dog who knew him

By his smell and brought

To him moments of

Pure joy and a memory

Of the outside world.

And then there were

Those hours on a 

Sunday afternoon when

We celebrated poetry

And women’s friendships,

A gift from my family

That will never be

Forgotten as I see

Each face and hear

Each voice and immerse

Myself in the memory

Of a perfect gift.


by 4 Comments

The Great Mystery

What makes mist gently

move across the pond or

the pond reflect the clouds?

What makes the sound

of the wind, and why do

pine needles fall to

the ground? What makes 

the lavender flowers…these

lavender flowers at my feet

or the white ones beside them?

What makes the blue heron’s 

neck so long and why does he 

stand so still at our approach?

And what about the algae

on the fallen branch or

the orange mushrooms?

You might say that it

is all explained by science.

But what explains science?

Does anyone really know?

Do we work too hard

to make sense of it all

when perhaps we are

just meant to be amazed?