Downpour – a Magic 9 poem 

Sometimes I forget,
(when I smell damp night air)
what it’s like for skin to be wet–
to taste raindrops in my coffee,
and wash my own regret
in puddles at my feet.
How can I stay upset,
with the wind in my hair
reminding me not to fret?



Magic 9 – According to Robert Lee Brewer, this form is a newer form, relatively unknown, and appears to have been inspired by a poet misspelling the word “abracadabra.” There are no rules as far as meter or subject matter–just a rhyme scheme: abacadaba. (Remove the r’s from “abracadabra,” )




Full Moon Bathing


Mother of the night calls
and I step into the trees.
The cloak of my cares
slips, in a fall of silk
from my shoulders and
bare, I sink into the arms
of deep, warm water.

We whisper, as sisters do,
of hopes and change,
the extravagance
of the universe.
I confess the ache of
my longing for you,
and she reminds me
the journey is the ‘this’.

Sleep pulls me, protesting,
from her watery feet,
so she fills my hands
with blessings —
courage, clarity, love.