Twitter Poem 11

The rare snow
glows blue under bare trees.
Inside the house,
my child's feet are warm
against my skin, a gift
in this cold dawn.

Twitter Poem 10

Together:

the whole house sleeps
except my husband and me

we sit in separate rooms,
writing to strangers in air

Twitter Poem 9

old friend: your voice
reminds me
I am still
myself

Twitter Poem 8

Quickly the fickle
strivings of the day
desert us,
leaving us
again
with ourselves.

So each day
renews the question:
self,
or better self?