I write what refuses silence
· Rustic Embers
Last morning in a borrowed house. The country has done its quiet work. I am leaving rested in a way I did not arrive ready to be.
Paired Poem
Sunset Instructions
· Reflection
The ocean took my phone, the turtles didn't hatch, and a man named Ron grabbed my ankles on a beach in Jacó. A day about not gripping what was never meant to stay.
Paired Poem
Ashes Without Ruin
· Travel Journal
Costa Rica does not surround you — it introduces itself. Between mud-soaked ATV trails, waterfall rappels, judging monkeys, and a Pacific tide quietly erasing every footprint at Hermosa Beach, a single question kept rising: are we meant to preserve what we leave behind, or just keep walking while we are here?
Paired Poem
Heart Above Jacó
· Reflection
I was walking Hermosa Beach at sunset when I saw him — a man out on the dark rock with a rod in his hands, casting into the surf as the light failed. I never saw his face. I only saw that he stayed, sending the line out again and again into water that had promised him nothing.
Paired Poem
Salt Between the Tides
· Inspirational
The tide here doesn't ask permission. It comes up behind you like an old friend who has decided your conversation is over, and erases the last quarter mile of your thinking without so much as an apolo…
Paired Poem
What Stays
· Journal
Three years in Santa Fe. Twelve days in Costa Rica. One missed flight for a dog. A gift the math does not balance.
Paired Poem
Jaco Pulse
· On Writing
A May 2026 reflection on "May Draft Notes: Light Through the Cracks", tied to "Why Love Feels Like a Penitence" and written as a personal record of what I was living and feeling.
Paired Poem
Why Love Feels Like a Penitence
· Nature
A Galveston shoreline entry about salt air, weathered posts, gulls, the Gulf tide, and the quiet origin of the poem Tideposts.
Paired Poem
Tideposts
· Journal
April 2026 journal on Pipes and the Tide, paired with Three Walks with Pipes, tracing place, turn, and emotional record.
Paired Poem
Three Walks with Pipes