“My dad, the farmer and patient painter, 
dabbed the dirt canvas 
 with small brown seeds 
 that grew for weeks, months 

into swaths of shamrock-colored crops 
 against a powdery, 
 puffy blue sky….”

-excerpt & The Habit Podcast recording of “My First Still Life”

In this poem about my father, a fourth-generation farmer on my family’s farm in northeastern Colorado, I explore the aesthetic beauty of Impressionism and the awe of a farmer who looks to a new day after loss. This poem is me in stanza form: my voice, my land, my loss, my home, my one day.

I am a poet, author, and higher education freelance editor in southern California. Born the fifth generation on my family’s farm in Colorado and a classically trained pianist, I meld in my writing aurality, rural life, and empathy through the varied voices and lives of those I observe. A rare health condition keeps me from living in Colorado near my family’s farm, so my poetry and writing reach for home — both temporal and eternal.

Beholding — Read more about my condition and Who keeps me pressing on and living with Hope.

Publications