grocery store sunsets

I was walking out of Family Fare 

the other day, 

grabbing bug spray, fruit snacks,

and Capri Sun juice boxes (strawberry kiwi)

my son has camp scottie this week.

As the sliding doors opened for me like royalty,

I saw, there,

just beyond the black tar, 

past the crooked bus stop sign,

displayed there, 

the most spectacular sun set

just beyond the horizon.

Gorgeous stunning hues, 

of purples, pinks, and oranges,

the clouds were there too, 

but seemed to know to separate like 

velvet curtains, 

making room for the 

brilliant sun to give 

his last call

before retiring for the evening.

i stood there, clutching my plastic bags

holding obtuse shapes and earthly items,

and took my time in witnessing 

the glory of 

His majesty.

I praised the Creator for His work,

reveling, marveling.

what joy. 

that I can find Him everywhere,

even in a 

grocery store sunset.

Isla Mujeres

Isla Mujeres,

it will always be ours. 

the gatorade blue water, 

clear as crystal, it will 

always be ours. 

the yellow ferry boat floating between 

land and island, 

music drifting from the man's guitar, 

it is ours too.

the sand white, bright, like clean teeth, 

bustling streets, foot travelers, 

the tiny motorbikes, the helmets, 

the fuchsia pink flowers 

fanning their petaled skirts just for us, 

ours. 

the room on the top floor, 

lots of windows with no glass, 

breeze and sun enter and exit at 

their leisure, 

the shade of lime and whitestone shielding us, 

the newlyweds, 

as we fall into each other each night, 

each day, 

any time we close the door really, 

those handful of sacred firsts as 

husband and wife, 

enveloped in our own garden of 

eden, 

ours, and ours only. 

Isla Mujeres,  with its pinky sized glass cokes, 

pocket of sun sized cervesas,

el pok huk with the sign made of red bean sea shells, 

the silky black bean soup,

the nachos piled high, 

they will always be ours. 

we hold these precious memories 

close to our hearts, 

warming us until we might find ourselves

back there, 

when we can, 

if we can. 

still wed. still new. 

beautiful isla mujeres, 

will always be ours.  

 

*we are slated to return after visiting 3 times in the history of our marriage, 

july 2026, in celebration of our 19th wedding anniversary!

the phone is bone dry. 

not even a dusty notification tumbleweed rumblin’ by.

straight up sand paper cactus desert storm

dehydration california drought mode dry,

and I am left a bit lonelier, 

but a whole lot more peaceful.

instead:

journal is full of hand written thoughts, mind is 

quieter, slower paced,

clearer, and I can hear myself think.

I am cracking open books again, devouring poetry, learning new words,

inspiration is finally being given a chance to unfurl,

rather than being choked out by electrical noise.

I am working my way through hours of classic composers, 

I’ve added old friends, Brahams, Sergei Prokoviev, 

and Shostakovich,

welcome to my Crosley speaker, 

please enter my ears freely and please

 stay as 

long as you’d like..

8:45am

 joy bubbled up, 

as i sipped my first few sips 

of coffee, 

(a fluffy brown sugar espresso, 

might i add) 

i watched the sun peek through the trees 

and wink right at me,

and kiss both my cheeks

with his delicious warmth. 

this is the day 

that the Lord has made, 

i will rejoice

and be glad.

explore my face, my cheeks, 

my eyes, 

measuring the length of my neck 

with kisses, 

how many?

how long?

10 kisses perhaps?

12?

make love to me 

using just your eyes

i am your pleasure island

and you are mine

be wild with me 

but hold me secure.