The wolf

Silent, the wolf sat. The moon runs a finger through the shining hair sliding down his back. Alone, his paws prod across the undergrowth. Surrounded by a grove of trees, he only wanted to be understood. Gone were his pack, his tribe, those who stood by him. Intense eyes, watching, waiting. A majestic painting framed by an intricate outlay. A leaf falls to the ground. The forest breathes. Hardly noticeable to the unseen eye, his ears perk up ever so slightly. The chilled evening air whispers secrets to his charcoal nose. Lines ripple through the glossy coat worn across his back. Licking his lips, attent, he waits. Then ever so soft, comes a sound. Like breath, it glides through the trees. Slowly the whisper grows to a murmur, a mumble. The grounds starts to shake. A rumble, ever so slight. The trees start to sway in its wake. A call, a howl so great. Filling up his chest, the wolf sits still, taking it in. His ears then lay back as he embraces the sound. His muscles tighten, he moves like light. Under the moon he flies. Past the old juniper tree, the cave, the lullaby stream. Beneath the waterfall, over the ridge, the sunset plateau. Guided only by the sound, he follows his brethren. Pat, pat, pound, the ground sings beneath his feet. Free in the night he glides. Away from the place he knows, those who could never see beneath him. Into the unknown he soars, one purpose in mind, filling his soul.


Because I couldn’t have said it better myself

My little sister is an amazing  writer, more then I could ever hope to be. This hit me right in the spot. I couldn’t think of a better way to describe my loving Mom, thanks Marie.

marie the poet

I don’t think I’ve ever given my mother a real, actual non-coupon book Mothers Day present. This year was no exception- I still can’t remember if I payed my dad the five bucks to go in on a picture for my mom. It’s ridiculous, I know. My mother is the person who does nearly everything for me every. single. day. And yet though I might say thank you for the orange juice for breakfast, I don’t think I’ve ever shown true gratitude for what she does.

My mother is one of the most selfless people I know. For about 25 years now, she has lived a life of sleep-deprivation. She has birthed six children; been up in the night with them from their first breath. I have never heard her scream, “I need some ME time!” She has always been there for everyone. She is the glue of our home…

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The flood

The skies opened
The floods came down
The rainy days ahead
Have reached our front door

The barren desert
Once parched
It’s thirst quenched
By the once dry sky

Like a little plant
Only a sapling
We watched it grow.

Now full grown
Our little tree
We watch from a far
Our tears unknown
For those to see.

The rains came down
The floods came up
They ripped the roots
Straight from the ground.

Our garden is left scarred
And marred
Our innocent tree is lost
From our front yard.


It walked a long the path
to the place it had become
lost from those who’s wrath
had left it dead and numb

It’s fingers reach across the land
to where the light grows dim
Leaves clutched within its hand
as branches crawl up its phantom limb

the path once downtrodden
drowned in overgrowth,
now left forgotten.



I read this depressing article the other day. If you are too lazy to read all of it skip to the bottom where it talks about relationships. It’s easy to think we have unlimited time to spend with those that we love. But we don’t. So keep in mind that time is short, and life happens.