They lift
their globed bellies
nestled in their hands
as they sink slowly
below the waterline,
singing their lullabies
to the unborn bobbing
in amniotic nests. 

                 Swimmers,
swimming and brimming
with swimmers.

                 The sun
has barely risen, and
they have come
in hope...

Lifelong friends, 1953 and 2019

Just three months older, she’s known
me longer than I've known myself,

babes in bassinets, gabbling to each other
then...now we confide, readying for bed

nestled under the covers in a city
far from either of our homes.

“What are you reading?” she asks me.
"The English...

This has been a most difficult year for my cousin Mary.  For months she had taken so much time off from her job as a resource teacher in the Naples Public Schools to take her mother to doctor’s appointments.  When Aunt Martha’s condition required hospice, she spent many days on that transition.  Onc...

In Thailand freesias bloom in March,
just as they do thirteen thousand miles
from there on the corner of my street;
here I also find late-ripening tomatoes,
available for picking on my side
of my neighbor's fence.

Some travel to see wonders, ride
elephants and dhows.  But others of us
find our pleasure...

Wading through the shifting tide,
  the frothy foam, cold at his feet,
preening his plumage, preoccupied,
  the egret snubs me when we meet. 

What canniness and elegance,
  what guile and caginess I sense;
so fluid and aloof are we,
  the bird, the watcher and the sea.

Liz McFadzean

When darkness
and futility creep in
her efflorescence
pushes back,
a provocative allure
of tendril arms
reaching from
her pristine blush,
drawing towards
the mysterious beyond;
"come hither",
the siren sings.  She yawns,
expelling fragrant
breath so persuasively
that death shudders
in her presence.

Liz McFadzean

Perhaps it was inevitable that I would write poetry. I’ve always loved words—precise words, dramatic, literary words, empathetic words, even crossword puzzles. The specificity of words is of utmost importance to me. My favorite resource is Roget’s Thesaurus.

And yet…I didn’t think that I liked p...

I was recently in a group of women wrestling with the wisdom of Proverbs as regards to words and relationships. We were tackling two proverbs in particular:

“The words of the reckless pierce like swords, but the tongue of the wise brings healing.” (Prov. 12:18) and “Faithful are the wounds of ...

The sinking sun illuminates
the cottage by the sea,
aflame with a borrowed glow,
borrowed from a borrowed light,
reflecting a reflected glory,
like Moses unaware
that his face was radiant.

Liz McFadzean

“At one time you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord.  Walk as children of light (for th...

What are those dots upon your face, 
  most darlingest of misses?
They could be chickenpox, I guess;
  more likely, angel kisses.

As just a girl myself I thought
   of freckles as a scourge,
but now I’m old and love those spots
  and thrill as yours emerge.

You see, a wise old doctor told
  me when I was a c...