Iron Silk… By Toni L.A. Cross

See my fears

Taste these tears

Over many, many years

Melt to froth

Powder moth

Spun into fine spider cloth

Feel my doubt

Quench a shout

Mask it with generic pout

Boil down

Never frown

Become every person’s clown

Hide a thought

Don’t get bought

Become iron fully wrought



This Old Tree… by Toni L.A. Cross



This tree has seen a thing or two

He’s seen what mistletoe can do

In his many mossy years

His beard is white with snowy growth

Observing kisses and tears

His gnarled bark carved with a love oath

A heart that holds two names

From early childhood games

Discovering Our Country…

Two years ago, my adventurous husband decided he needed to take me out west. He wanted me to see more of our country and to share the beauty he had witnessed earlier in his life, on another road trip.

I was somewhat reluctant and at first, the 16 hour days in the car wore on me terribly. But part-way into our travels, my perspective began to shift…

We started in the very northeast of the USA and then made our way out to Colorado. Notable sites on the way were the Sears Tower, Mount Rushmore and the world's largest prairie dog. We went down, by way of New Mexico and then stopped in Tulsa, Oklahoma.

One of the most breathtaking parts of our drive was cruising along Florida's panhandle coast. We holed up for one night in the charming town of Apalachicola and hit the road again, bright and early the next morning.

On the way back home, we took a respite in Roanoke, Virginia and then New Bedford, Massachusetts, of Moby Dick fame.

I think everyone should take the time to see our amazing country!

If you would like to take a look at more photos from our trip, follow this link:

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after the storm… by Toni L.A. Cross


she finds herself surrounded

by glinting jagged pieces

the light filtering through

is warm golden brown

and it plays on the puddles

of spilled fermented froth

a small cut on her arm

oozes blood unnoticed

in the wake of torrential sobbing

hiccuping sighs and gaspy breathes

are melting in the air

the sick-sweet smell of vomit

clinging to her hair

the strength to pick up

the mop is gone

it stays in its place

and she wishes she could just

disappear like

the evaporating beer