SPRING in WASAGA . Poetry .

Maple Tree in Spring against an azure sky.
Maple Tree in Spring against an azure sky.



warm on my face,                                                                                                             glaring off the pages of my book,                                                                              casting artful shadows on the greening grass.

tweet songs from bare old maple tree.

fresh and gentle, kisses my neck;
demands slow, deep, restorative breaths;
lifts wisps of my hair in a dance.

Lazy drone of small private plane,                                                                               skims thro’ azure sky,
not a cloud in sight.

Winter is only a memory.




Granddaughter Love ~ Evie

My husband and I have five fabulous children and ten lovely grandchildren. The first nine are ages 13 to 21 – accomplished, wonderful people who are making this world a better place in which to live.

Since it had been more than a dozen years since we had a baby in the family, I was ecstatic to enjoy this most precious life experience again. I am mesmerized by the reaction even the newest babe has to our holding and talking to her or him. I become lost in the intensity of the baby’s reaction to my murmured words, excited babble, smile, the touch of my hand on her velvet skin.

From the first hour after a baby is born, she or he locks eyes with you when you lean in and whisper words of love. Everly’s response to my voice, touch and  affection from that initial precious meeting made me come alive again. I am so grateful to have this wee darling girl in my life, especially because I thought I would never again experience such incredible joy.

The simplicity and brevity of a Haiku poem says it all.

For Everly

Contentment …
days spent
in granddaughter love.

* * *

Beautiful day in Toronto's High Park, Grenadier Pond area, w Evie, Greg, Tiff. June 19, 2015
Beautiful day in the area of Grenadier Pond, in Toronto’s High Park, with Evie, Greg, Tiff. June 19, 2015

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

FRIENDSHIPS .. “For My Friends” . Poetry .


GREG my husband and friend
CARRIE ANDREW STEPHANIE JOANNA GREGORY my children and friends                      For my growing friendships in our new home town                                                         and for any of you I neglected to mention


Shared                                                                                                                        experiences                                                                                                                  moments

Shared                                                                                                                          happiness, joy, laughter, more laughter                                                                                               sadness, pain, illness                                                                                                   travel

love. feelings. sex

Shared                                                                                                                             nursing school, residence life                                                                                   terror and excitement, rules, firsts …                                                                                                                                                              first bedpan, bed bath, injection, surgery, birth, death.

Shared                                                                                                                                teen pregnancy’s unbearable pain                                                                           years of emptiness, yearning, searching.                                                            Searing pain of marriage tearing, torn.                                                            Dementia, tragedy.

Shared                                                                                                                                    sunset
a good book
a road trip.                                                                                                                     shopping
an exquisite meal.

motherhood                                                                                                                  caring for, loving, nursing our own baby.                                                          surprises, fears, joy                                                                                                                   shared with a friend, a cigarette, a glass of wine.

Shared                                                                                                                             laughter                                                                                                                                     at ourselves                                                                                                                        each other                                                                                                                          and others.

Tears                                                                                                                                shared                                                                                                                                lighten the load.

Precious memories
to recall                                                                                                                                when we are alone.

A few of My Friends. Thank you girls! With Love
Some of My Women Friends. I thank you girls with my heart, with Love

. . . 

Friendships are like seedlings                                                                                         They need time to sprout and bloom.


FRIENDSHIP .. Sally . Poetry .



She amazes me.                                                                                                                               Tall, with a bearing that hints of ‘good blood’.                                                                            At once energetic, yet reserved                                                                                             Caught unaware, she is pensive.

Animated in an exchange with a stranger                                                                                   as though a life-long friend                                                                                                        She possesses the envious skill of drawing anyone into a                    conversation –                                                                                                                            I sit and watch in wonder.

She dresses in a classic style                                                                                                         With a liberal dash of je ne sais quoi                                                                                                  A scarf flung artfully,                                                                                                                   Slashes of colour drape her long languid body.

Huge original canvases fill her home                                                                                   Warm, passionate splashes of red liven floor and walls.                                         Thought-provoking art,                                                                                                                Subtle yet strong shapes, line, colour.                                                                     Sophistication. Awareness of art as emotion

She encompasses warmth generosity,                                                                                   Eager to take in all life offers                                                                                                       Fun. Feisty. Friend.

My observations and feelings following a day of laughter and comaraderie with two friends in Wasaga Beach, Elmvale, Barrie, Nov. 13, 2014 .

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FRIENDSHIPS .. Marilyn . Poetry .



Such beauty. Good bones,
Skin the colour of an August peach,
with soft undulations,
Proof of living six decades

Yet Age is kept at bay
by warmth of smile on Cupid lips,
Teeth as white as a child
Hair like snow, a soft, kinky halo

More than her glow of health, her warmth and her smile
Resides a zest for life
Pride in her children, love for her grandchildren
And a calm which I envy.

Brightly coloured Vegetables, nuts and fruit make up her diet
Some days only bananas bananas bananas.

Wilderness kayaking for days
Or a 3 month visit to Equador,
To sustain, revitalize, experience all of life.

A beaded choker, not at her throat, but circling her tiny ankle.
Across her chest rests a small bag woven in the third world.
Neither time nor age concerns her.

Warrior woman, adventuress
So alive and lovely
Consistent, steadfast, supportive,
Hippy. Sprite. Friend.

My observations and feelings following a day of laughter and comaraderie                  with two friends in Wasaga Beach, Elmvale, Barrie, Nov. 13, 2014 .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

A RECOLLECTION SUMMER PAST – ‘Simple Pleasures’. Poetry .

Simple Pleasures


a recollection of summer past

Rainbow of umbrellas ripple in the breeze

Rainbow of people on the beach and in the water

On their boats and water crafts

Tossing balls and bouncing on their floaters

Swimming, sun bathing and building sand castles

Reading and people-watching.

The soft wind sketches hatched patterns

Across the surface of the water

Sea gulls dip and swoop

Endless simple pleasures.

 I wrote this poem one perfect summer day this past August. I found it scribbled on a worksheet in my journal.
It is difficult to comprehend, on this wet, chilly September day, that this glorious experience was only one month ago.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  




Eyes closed

A breeze whispers through the leaves,

caresses my cheek.

A love song to me


Water bubbles

tumble playfully onto the smooth sand

A soft melodic swoosh, swoosh, swoosh.


Rainbow of umbrellas ripple in the breeze

Rainbow of people on the beach, in the water

On their boats and watercraft

Tossing balls, bouncing on their floaters

Reading, people-watching, building sand castles,

sunbathing, swimming.

The soft wind

draws hatched patterns across the surface of the water

Sea gulls dip, swoop.

Greg out deep, head disappears then bobs up

Me, water to my shoulders, taking in

endless simple pleasures.

.  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .  .


Duffy sitting on a snow bank, March 1, 2014
Duffy sitting on a snow bank, March 1, 2014

I took Duffy for a walk this morn. The snow banks are melting and receding. The wind is howling from the shores of Georgian Bay only two short blocks away and as I looked up at a fir tree beside me, a Haiku poem began swirling like the wind. Creativity comes from the most unlikely sources.

Stately evergreens 

Bowing like ballet dancers

In the strong March winds.

Enjoy your day. Spring is on the way.


CHOICES, BREVITY . Memoir . Haiku .



Choices, each minute

each hour, each day.  So many.

Breath deeply.  Decide.

* * *


Love the clarity

brevity and beauty of

Haiku Poetry.


WHEN THINGS COME ALIVE . Memoir . ReBlog-Steve McCurry .

I had to share this blog with Steve McMurtry’s gorgeous, thought provoking photographs, and poems & quotes from the masters. Stunning beauty. LP  …

When Things Come Alive

when words fade and things come alive.
When the destructive analysis of day is done, and
all that is truly important becomes whole and sound again.
When man reassembles his fragmentary self and grows with the calm of a tree.

– Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

00081_15, New York, New York, USA, USA-10032NFOverlooking Washington Square Park, New York, United States


I often think that the night is more alive and more richly colored than the day.

– Vincent Van Gogh

USA-10164_newLos Angeles, United States

ITALY-10450NF3Umbria, Italy

And the night shall be filled with music,
And the cares, that infest the day,
Shall fold their tents
and silently steal away

– Henry Wadsworth Longfellow





Hong Kong

The man who has seen the rising moon break out of the clouds
at midnight has been present like an archangel at the
creation of light and of the world

– Ralph Waldo Emerson

CHINA-10171Hong Kong

USA-10086New York, United States

INDIA-10237NF3Mumbai, India

Most glorious night!
Thou wert not sent for slumber!

– Lord Byron

01052_ 023India

To me at least was never evening yet
But seemed far beautifuller than its day.

– Robert Browning, The Ring and the Book

INDIA-10605Rambagh Palace Hotel, Jaipur, India

INDIA-10312NF, Taj Mahal, Agra, India, 1996,

Agra, India

Day, like a weary pilgrim, had reached the western gate of heaven, and
Evening stooped down to unloose the latchets of his sandal shoon.

– Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


Grand Central Terminal, New York, United States

What hath night to do with sleep?

–  John Milton, Paradise Lost


Learn to reverence night and to put away the vulgar fear of it,
for, with the banishment of night from the experience of man,
there vanishes as well a religious emotion,
a poetic mood, which gives depth to the adventure of humanity.

– Henry Beston




ITALY-10018NF5, Camino, Italy, 09/2004 final print_MACROItaly

The night walked down the sky with the moon in her hand.

– Frederick L. Knowles


Some praise the Lord for Light,
The living spark;
I thank God for the Night
The healing dark.

– Robert W. Service