What Good Is a Window?


What good is a window 

 if there’s nothing to see 

no season of fall 

no drifting of leaves 

What good is a window 

if there’s only a wall. 


What good is a window 

if it’s sealed on all sides 

if it always stays closed 

by your heart or your pride 

What good is a window 

If you’re underexposed. 


What good is a window     

if it’s locked tight, secured 

or covered with drapes 

and your view is obscured 

What good is a window 

If there is no escape 


What good is a window 

if it’s not open wide 

to smile at skies blue 

to let fear subside 


What good is a window? 

It let’s you climb through 

Italy 2004 019 2

(photo taken when I visited beautiful Tuscany)


Top Photo credit

I measure every Grief I meet

I measure every Grief I meet (561)

Emily Dickinson, 18301886

I measure every Grief I meet
With narrow, probing, eyes – 
I wonder if It weighs like Mine – 
Or has an Easier size.

I wonder if They bore it long – 
Or did it just begin – 
I could not tell the Date of Mine – 
It feels so old a pain – 

I wonder if it hurts to live – 
And if They have to try – 
And whether – could They choose between – 
It would not be – to die – 

I note that Some – gone patient long – 
At length, renew their smile –  
An imitation of a Light
That has so little Oil – 

I wonder if when Years have piled –  
Some Thousands – on the Harm –  
That hurt them early – such a lapse
Could give them any Balm –  

Or would they go on aching still
Through Centuries of Nerve – 
Enlightened to a larger Pain –  
In Contrast with the Love –  

The Grieved – are many – I am told –  
There is the various Cause –  
Death – is but one – and comes but once –  
And only nails the eyes –  

There’s Grief of Want – and grief of Cold –  
A sort they call “Despair” –  
There’s Banishment from native Eyes – 
In sight of Native Air –  

And though I may not guess the kind –  
Correctly – yet to me
A piercing Comfort it affords
In passing Calvary –  

To note the fashions – of the Cross –  
And how they’re mostly worn –  
Still fascinated to presume
That Some – are like my own –



photo credit of Emily Dickinson, my FAVORITE poet.


Daily Word Prompt: Enlighten

To Plant Again

A meager end of one’s desires

Helpless, falls within the fires

Softly heard the silent pleas

For targets reached with greater ease.

Bemoan the loss of relinquished goals

That lay defeated upon the coals

As sparks take flight and seconds clash

They cruelly wither and turn to ash.

Rising yet above the flame

Release of who or what to blame

To plant again a seed accrued

From hopes of life and dreams renewed.

journal plans

(My poetry made into a painting)


Daily Prompt: Release

Stand Terra Firma

The birth of Eve


Do not trespass upon my goldmine

try to uncover, take or polish my gems.

It is my shaft of discovery

waiting only for me

It is my quarry.


Why attempt to tend,

cultivate, till, harvest,

tame a terrain not your own?

I planted the seed

It is my terra firma.


Why mold a clay

with fraudulent hands

spinning, forming

on a potters wheel meant solely for me

when I am the potter of my destiny?


To understand my true legend,

I must do these things on my own.




Daily word prompt: Tame

What do YOU see? Can you see FARTHER?


Is this a puppy asleep on a couch, OR


IMG_4124 (4).jpg

a moon through an open curtain?


Version 3

The same photo from a different perspective

The same “fact” with opposing views


No wonder it’s difficult to convince others of what WE believe is true.


It is rumored that Native Americans never “saw” the “invisible” European ships coming toward them, that it was too “alien” to their experiences for their minds to grasp the concept.


There’s a more obvious answer for the odd times when Cook’s ship didn’t spur a reaction from people on the shore. While we can’t disprove the extraordinary notion that the ships were indeed invisible, I think the more prosaic solution is that the natives were living on the edge of survival, and that anything that wasn’t a threat or didn’t contribute to their well-being could be safely ignored.

And as panhandlers and wheelchair users can tell you, just because you’re ignored doesn’t mean you’re invisible.


Our eyes only see what our mind wants to tell us. Let’s tell our mind to see things anew.

Nothing is invisible.

I looked, but found something better



I found a treasure instead. My piano, “Three-Legged Dog”, a 1917 parlor-grand Steinway piano, helped me write this poem for her coming-out, coming home party in 2000.

We celebrated her arrival in 1920’s costume and music.

She was born in Chicago in 1917, went to New York, was renovated, and settled in my living room many decades later.

So, here she is, my Three-Legged Dog, sharing her poem.

(I would scan the original  poem but, I’m happy to say, red wine stains cover some of the words. So I’ve retyped.)


Well, I’ve seen a lot of changes 

many looks on many faces

But I’m wondering what you think of me tonight.

So I stand here in my glory

many years and many stories

And I hope to shed for you a little light.

So looking back, we’re sorting

we begin the process courting

of a kinship to discover varied pasts

And I hope that you will find me

just a little more enlightening

than the accumulation of years gone by too fast.

My insides renovated

many hands participated

in the making of this body – Parlor Grand

I’ve been sheltered, I’ve been trampled

left behind and gently sampled

But I’m balanced on these three legs where I stand.

Have you seen me at my low times

or my even just-for-show times?

Can you tell when I need company by sight?

Let me do some rearranging 

’cause the times, they keep on changing

So I’m wondering what you think of me tonight.

In front of you I’m standing

so proud of parlor granding

and though it seems you haven’t known me very long

I’ll keep us entertaining 

for the years that are remaining

’cause the bond I have with you is very strong.

So, I’ll be here ready for you

and I’ll try hard not to bore you

I’m  lucky and I thank the stars above

And I’ll be open, you will hear me

it’s my fortune if you’re near me —

CD-W, 10-24-2000

(or is this me I’m really speaking of?)