Poetry
Poems and collections
Open a title to read the poem here. The page stays still enough to feel like a room, while the writing moves at its own pace.
Weather and Water
Poems shaped by rain, shorelines, storms, tides, and the soft weather of memory.
After Rain May 9, 2026
The world rinsed clean does not forget what it carried.
The street exhales
after the storm,
and every window keeps
a little of the sky.
I touch the sill
where water gathered,
where the day left proof
it had been heavy.
Some quiet things
do not arrive as answers.
They come as silver beads,
as leaf-breath,
as the hush after thunder
when the house remembers
how to listen.
What I Keep April 27, 2026
Not everything that breaks should be fixed. Some things become altars.
I keep the stone
because it knew the tide
before it knew my palm.
I keep the letter
for the bend in the paper,
not the words.
I keep the silence
that followed goodbye
because it was honest
and did not dress itself
as anything softer.
There are ruins
I do not rebuild.
I sweep them.
I light a match.
I let them stand
where the wind can pass through.
Home and Stillness
Quiet room poems, small rituals, domestic grace, and the mercy of ordinary days.
Small Mercies May 2, 2026
The kettle's song, the cat's slow blink, a day unbroken by anything loud.
The kettle sings
like it has forgiven fire.
In the soft room,
the cup warms my hands
before the day can ask
anything of them.
There is a kind of grace
in not being interrupted.
A folded towel.
A spoon returned.
A flower keeping its shape
long after bloom.
I have learned to count
the smallest mercies first.