I stand where gold remembers prayer,
where quiet climbs the edges of the sky.
The temple does not speak--
it listens… and so do I.
...
It's early;
The temple roofs are quiet,
Clouds cross the sky,
slow enough to notice.
...
The canal runs straight through the middle of things--
Not fast, not still.
The water is brown
reflecting the sun in broken pieces…
...
I write poems from quiet moments in everyday life. I pay attention to small things, still places and moments that slow me down. Faith is part of my work but I keep it gentle and unspoken.)
Where Time Removes Its Shoes
I stand where gold remembers prayer,
where quiet climbs the edges of the sky.
The temple does not speak--
it listens… and so do I.
The day starts quietly here,
stone looks worn but steady.
I stand off to the side - away from the light,
and stand there longer than planned.
Nothing is hurried.
not the steps,
not the heart,
even time removes its shoes.
I stop.
I stand there.
A small smile comes,
nothing planned,
nothing for show.