long lost sun

Just when I was going to begin building an ark, the rain stopped and the sun began to shine. The words flutter and clutter so here am I to set them free. If I simply write without erase, will I return at another time and see mistakes. Things so out of place. Will I sigh and begin to fix them. Line breaks, misspellings and too many commas,,, or not nearly enough. But I am inclined to say there are far fewer things in this world that need fixing and far more that simply need to be loved.

So I will let them shine like the long lost sun. And instead I will marvel at the empire that rests atop the world, carry seed to a place where there isn’t any, shudder at the slither through the tall grass that reminds me why I wear boots… take cautious steps so as not to land on the baby hop toad, and listen….to the whisper of a wing upon the wind…


ellie894 May 27,2021


Already, it is warmer

than yesterday

and I hear the train

beyond the hummingbird

and well passed the hush

of windless leaves.

Clouds came early

and faded the rainbow

slipping through

the locked tight door.

They are gone

as the train is also

and the rainbow vanished

on this now

cloudless day.

Perfect tiny triangles

flutter at my feet

forward but not fast,

they call to me,

as slowly as the tree grows,

they say

or you shall miss it.

Miss what…

You’ll know it

when you move

as though time

stands still,

and It

lands upon

your open heart….


ellie894 May 7, 2021


A painted lady came

yesterday to visit me

She perched

atop the swing as though

she was deep in thought

and waiting for her tea.

I don’t believe

I have a cup so small.

But, I will check to see…


ellie894 May 4, 2021

She flew before I could get a photo of her on the swing 🙂


In the great darkness of the morning there was thunder and lightning and rain. I very nearly gave in to the sounds of it and let myself drift back to sleep. No matter. It was destined to be a go nowhere and do nothing kind of day…all gray skies outside and all butterflies inside.

There was a poem about daily things written by a woman, nearly the same age as my dad. Her verses were good. I miss my dad.

There was a letter written by an author to a friend, a list of books she loved. And, I wondered once more at how I love to read about reading.

There was a painting that left me giggling a bit at how one person can be depicted in so many different places that he’s never ever been… and no, it’s not Where’s Waldo. 🙂

There was a favorite line by Rumer Godden. “It was the small things that helped, taken one by one and savored.” …. she’s right, you know. I paused just there to think of all the savoring to be done in a day…

The poet and the painter. Sunshine dispersing the clouds and the blue skies waiting to take their place. Wings set free today. Tiny curious noses that will also be on their way soon. So much hunger…needing to be fed.

The reading and the mingling of thought… a slow swing at the end of a meandering day…. and how it doesn’t take much to tie them altogether somehow…


ellie894 May 2, 2021

the arc of a smile….

Within every scale,

a seed.

Within every seed,

a story.

Of, where colors come from

and the weaver who knits them

into a solitary hour.

Why tails love to swish

in the arc of a smile

and some noses

do far more

than just sniff,

from the time they’re a child.

How the earth first trembled

at the triumph of song.

When a star reaches its zenith,

and a journey

that’s been so long.

Who shed a tear yesterday,

and will laugh

with hope on the morrow.

What the evergreen sees

and the elephant knows…


ellie894 April 20, 2021

the meeting….

It seems to me

that time is always racing

east to west.

It feels to me

that wind is always hurtling

west to east


I think

I’ve found the place

where they meet….


ellie894 April 19, 2021


There are field butterflies

and mailbox butterflies.

There are those who dance

in the faery wood.

And those that laze the day

away, near the water’s edge.

There is even

a grand yellow swallowtail

who dwells in the shade

of the wizened old oak tree.

So that,

with every step I take

I am in the home

of one or another.

As surely as if

I had knocked upon a door

and had it thrown open to me

in a whispered cry of



ellie894 April 18, 2021