Monday, April 11, 2016

Sunday, March 27, 2016

Shall be released

I am saved by it each spring anew. A mighty power opens the earth to become Scilla, my asterisk,
whose footnote says, True blue.*

*It means: I will always return to you.

(Easter Sunday, 4:08 pm DST)

Wednesday, February 17, 2016

Sunday, February 14, 2016

Wednesday, January 27, 2016

If you would write a letter to the moon

There have always been the two of you. The light inside
is the shy friend who tries on the cape of sky. The other
is the mirror. Every word spoken between you is a loop.

Monday, January 18, 2016

Strange land

In this state, the seasons are loosely translated.

Tuesday, January 12, 2016

Just so

A particular morning. 
Like the first morning, plus a house. 
Oh morning, you have never failed 
the world. And today 
you are looked at from a window.

Tuesday, January 5, 2016


Mist, wind, and rain have travelled to these hills from distant places. The line that separates the heavens from the earth has almost disappeared. The firs keep pointing to the sky though there is no star.

Saturday, December 26, 2015

Let nothing you dismay

The cat loped home from the far-away when I struck the bell of his name, and love bounded out to meet him. A memory arrived in the same way, as did the day.

Thursday, December 24, 2015

The tiny many

In my cabinet of earth's weathers, shelves of leaf and dew uncatalogued. The label would say, I do not forget you.

Wednesday, December 16, 2015

A yellow flower's view

Wan sun. Still, it's something to follow in the blank skies of winter. Unless it snows. Those flakes and the night's stars don't mean as much to me.

Tuesday, December 8, 2015


Roaming the frost with a camera for an eye and rose hips for a galaxy. 

Sunday, December 6, 2015

From one minute to the next

Those feelings that get up with me, crouching since dawn with the cat
who wants breakfast. The street life of my soul, the watcher watching it.

photo: from one minute to the next, © rosemary starace

Saturday, November 28, 2015


The horizon in all directions had imbibed the evening glow. The sky was unimpeded, it seemed to want my climb. If I took sufficient height, I would understand tomorrow. 

When darkness tightened the streets, there was nothing even so far as arm's distance.

Wednesday, November 25, 2015

Monday, November 23, 2015

Earth orbs scarcely pink

 Colors hurry across the yard just before the invisible wind arrives.

Sunday, November 22, 2015

A sweet caress

The gray light of November breaks into the house. Something there is that loves it. 

Wednesday, November 18, 2015

White steam

Frost gauzes the downed and the mown.
But few shadows haunt the yard.
In the distance, a teapot whistles.

Monday, November 16, 2015

The fractured world

Rainbows walk the dining room walls and blue frost scumbles the grass. Wind scatters leaves like cats or light. Beauty leans in at an angle to the grief.

Sunday, November 15, 2015

The sky was too beautiful

The clouds, the earth, the river, every house was built of pink. For just a minute.