Aviary Felons

Unsuspecting, we turn the bend one February day
An unwary hike in nature
admiring winters lovely creatures
inspecting all the frozen features
Silently, wings spread wide, gullible little prey
a crime of aviary felons
Red-tailed Hawk with razor talons
clutched deep into the neighbors hen
Red feathers whisked,
smooth as silk up beyond the fence
No cry, no cluck, no hiss
Red’s ears perk to hear wings aflutter
I gasp in shock,
look toward the docks
“But nature is too cruel.” I utter.



I would like to pledge allegiance to the flag
but the flag is not the flag I knew. The bright and shining banner I looked forward to each day.
Stars and stripes on brilliant white promising to me,
a small girl in a grammar school that this sweet land of liberty
would always be this way.
I’d like to hold my hand light upon my heart
and speak those words of One
Nation under God.
I’d like to see my flag flying high above the trees, undulating grand
I long for my republic
the dream for which it stands
But my beloved flag
Stands for ideas far less
I’d like to pledge allegiance to the flag
But its taken a tragic fall
It use to stand for liberty and justice for all.
How I wish my dear old friend who greeted me each day
Untainted stars and stripes and brilliant white could have stayed that way.


Sweet Dreams

Tonight I will dream about you. dream about you sleeping soundly, dreaming up your own sweet dreams
my dream will astound me
I will dream about you floating on a feathered wish high above the crowd
dream of you suspended in an all inclusive amniotic cloud
well-protected from the monsters hiding ‘neath the bed
dream of counting every lovely hair upon your head
tonight, Dear One, I will love you to the end of time
and to that end, love of mine,
I will dream about you.



Sally had a hangnail on her left fourth toenail
irksome though the agnail be
Sally chose not to see
Sally drew the conclusion
that the hangnail was an illusion
her claw ensnared many a thread on the bedclothes in the night
grew to proportions out of control
spiked the very fabric of her life
Stalwartly Sally strolled onward through her days
one foot then the other in a blissful, mindless in haze
conversed with the earth,
Sally plodded her trusted soles
taking along her real wounds
her weary, unhealed soul
Sally marched in blistering sun, rain, sleet and snow
she sauntered until her hangnail grew itself quite old.
over time and measured ground
as galling things will do
Sally’s snag worked its way up, out and through
now Sally’s soles are worn
her soul has seen the dawn
She continues to walk
with a certain smirk
just as if she never knew.

“Until Every Child Is Well”

Our son was kidnapped quite similarly to this young survivor, Justina Pelletier.
His occurred prior to social media’s influence. You won’t find him in the news. Over months of time they steadfastly divided our family and eventually conquered us. They methodically frayed the very fabric of who we were. Tore us to shreds and we are still putting the pieces back together.
He withstood abuse, long term isolation, torture in the form of daily water-boarding type punishment, gaslighting and brainwashing. DAILY, FOR EIGHT MONTHS IN ISOLATION AT 14 YRS. OF AGE.
On a locked pediatric psychiatric ward against our will.
We lost him. He lost us. We all lost each other.
So traumatized and shamed was I to have had my beautifully nurtured boy torn from my arms under such violent accusations, I became mute around it.
Year’s later I began to write through my muted state.
I’ll continue to write this story because most of you think nothing like this will ever happen to you.
And most of you are right.
But just in case one of you finds yourself or a close relative or friend in such a situation,

And year’s later, my boy still missing, I found a pen.

“Ghost ghost ghost
How is he Now
Peter Hunt, PhD, Satan
he knows the most
Never fair for either
How could it come to that
How could it ever have come to that
I promised you
I promised you, my dear sweet child
I promised so hard
Never ever, ever to let them
Allow them
Permit them
To do the unthinkable
The unimaginable
The atrocious
Take you from me
Take me from you
A promise so hard
A heart so ragged
A soul so stolen
A life so tender
My once upon a baby boy
Little guy
My reason for joy
They stole you from me
They stole you from he
They stole you from we
They stole you from
the you that was you
the you that would be”

Wilde N.B.


They failed to keep their promise, “until every child is well”.

Wish you well Justina. You are not alone. Ride your glorious horses into the wind.
You are beautiful.


Photo credit, FB A Miracle For Justina page

Gentle Water

Many years ago a doctor asked me,
“Do you have a pair of sneakers?”
She had fully assessed my state of despair. In her professional opinion she could offer medications and therapy, both of which evidence strongly backed in their effectiveness. Both of which I’d given more than a fair shot over time.
We sat in silence for a moment.
I replied, “Yes. I do, but what do you think a stupid pair of sneakers is going to do to repair my splintered life?”

And this photo is from my morning walk with my newly adopted rescue dog, Red and my camera.

If you see her, please tell her it worked. Her name is Theresa.

If One Could Talk In Idioms

“Who let the cat out of the bag?” Kitty exclaimed. She realized the Iceland trip was no longer a surprise to Finch, her Dad. He is as stubborn as a mule. This news opened up a whole new can of worms. After months of careful planning, to have to change horses midstream really raised her hackles.
She glanced around the room at her three siblings. Buck, always one to take the bull by the horns uncharacteristically excused himself. Said he was going to see a man about a horse then have a gander at the oil burner.
Channing, her calm, sensible older sister looked across the old oak kitchen table top.
“Kit, why do you always strain at a gnat and swallow a camel? You know that even if I wanted to mention it I couldn’t. With my new job at City Hall, I’ve been flat out like a lizard drinking. The mayor thinks I flew the coop as it is.”
Kit eventually got around to landing an eagle eye on those of Fawn. Her youngest sibling, last in the family pecking order. The one the stork had surprised them with on a lark. For seven years Kit was protected under her mother’s wing, then Fawn. She remembered feeling as mad as a box of soapy frogs when Fawn arrived.
From nearly the beginning Fawn proved to be a fox in the hen house. Seeming to always find a way to get someone’s goat. When it came to Mom’s good graces, Fawn took the lion’s share.
Kit knew even as a child that the world was her oyster and that Fawn was only a one trick pony. Not that she was an ugly duckling, but Fawn did need their mother’s extra TLC after all. As kids, Kit and Fawn fought like cat and dog. Kit would learn the hard way that she’d even up the score with Mom’s attention when pigs fly.
Buck always felt like a fish out of water. He went through the typical teenage phase of trying to impress his peers as the cool cat. As he matured he found himself comfortably embracing being something of a lone wolf. Grateful that his wife, Robin was a social butterfly.
Now, the four siblings perched among each other in the kitchen of days long gone. Buck, the lone wolf, Channing, who lived in a world of puppies and rainbows, Fawn, sometimes meaner than a junkyard dog, and Kit, ever the people pleaser.
Kit had arranged the family trip to help their Dad through the dogged nights and day’s grief after losing their Mom. Sure it had been three years ago, but he was still as sick as a parrot over it. Her therapist advised her against it of course, saying let sleeping dogs lie.
Buck’s phone chirped off a text. Just Robin chiming in.
Dad texted to say he’s on his way home with Bee Sparrow, of all people.
“Isn’t she the cougar from the golf club?” Sniped Fawn.
Yeah! Beatrice Sparrow, lives next door the Bares. Retired CEO. She’s a fox in the boardroom I understand.” Quipped Buck.
“Now let’s not have a cow over this.” There’s got to be a reasonable explanation.” Piped in Channing from across the table.
Just then the kitchen door swung open. In walked Bee Sparrow followed by Finch. All four children stared silently.
Buck, Channing, Kit and Fawn, I’d like you to meet Bee Sparrow. Bee and I, well, me and Bee, we’re not flying to Iceland. We’re taking a vacation in the Villages. Then we’re on a pigeon wing home and Bee is move in.”
“Move in?” asked Channing.
“Yes, Bee and I are going to live together before we get married.”
Fawn whispered under her breath, “I knew it.”
Buck gave them both a big bear hug.
Kit said, “Dad, what about our trip to Iceland? It’s all planned and paid for.”
“I know Kit, but that trip was the straw that broke the camels back. It made me realize that this is my life now. I’m going to live it my way. I appreciate your efforts, but it’s time you get that bee out of your bonnet. Every dog has its day and it’s high time for me and Bee to fly like the birds!”