she understands
the language of frogs
summer wind
Author: Barbara Kaufmann
Barbra Kaufmann is a retired RN with lots of time for writing poetry, photography, gardening, walking and grandchildren!
a day of knitting
loose ends together
brain fog
spring
hanging her best silks
in the wind
finding a place to rest the scent of autumn
the struggle
to keep going
summer heat
the ups and downs
of a September day
goldfinches
telling stories of long ago the sound of rain
tall grass
carries the scent of the sea
fishing memories
from my childhood
the father I lost
in the beginning cherry blossoms
all the plans
we thought we had
sandcastles
living will
the kids know all I need
in the end
sunlight on my face
and ice cream every day
all my rough edges smoothed out by salt air morning stroll
hospice pond
a ripple settles
into stillness
soft rain
on mountain wildflowers —
my mother’s voice
chilly morning
my spring coat
stays packed
in a moon garden
filled with night bloomers
we stroll away
a blue hour
your hand in mine
just where the sky
meets the sea—
laughing gulls
a few ducks for company the long way home
wildflower walk
the
path
veers
off
through winter Haiga
woodpecker song
luring me deeper
into solitude
dawn stillness a blue heron rising without a ripple