The Lizard Has the Last Word

The Lizard Has the Last Word

The Lizard Has the Last Word

The long straight stretch
is now the signal
that I’m almost home
after the twisty roads

To the west
Troon Mountain looms large
to the east
is the hazy outline
of The Four Peaks
that rise nearly 8,000 feet

The faint white moon
is still high in the
relentless blue sky

A hummingbird hovers
before me in mid air
deciding which blossom to attack
for the best drink of nectar

The bunny rabbits are busy
Their fluffy white bottoms
earning them the name
desert cottontail

Quail hurry across the road
with a stream of tiny chicks
Cute and goofy
of little brain

Wrens and finches
chirp and call from
the tall saguaro
that are almost past blooming

Prickly pears have never
been more purple
While the fiery orange flowers
of a showy shrub now rule

bursting with magenta petals
are luminously vibrant
and create a floral fiesta.

Granite rock formations speak.
I’m a spirit in prayer
I’m a nut cracked open
to reveal my treasure

The McDowells loom large
Tom’s Thumb largest of all
Pinnacle Peak cries out
Hey, what about me?
I was your first love!

The lizard has the last word.
The tiny one with the long tail
asked for my attention

Next came a bigger,
beefier specimen
to grab my attention

Last, the exotic
green striped lizard
commanded the highest point
of a majestic rock

Pumping itself up and down
to remind me:
It’s time to take an internal audit
and that all important things
are born in our dreams

Goodbye Scottsdale,
I’ll see you in September

A few photos from my walks (click on the side arrows)

Saguaro blooming

Troon mountain

Cactus in bloom

Cracked nut rock formation

Fiery orange flower

Desert cottontail rabbit

Troon mountain with rock outcropping

White cactus flower


Tom’s Thumb

Lizards sunbathing

View of Pinnacle peak from the driving range of Troon Country Club

Pinnacle peak 

Prickly pear

First Maeve, Now Seamus

First Maeve, Now Seamus

First Maeve, Now Seamus

First Maeve
and now Seamus
Their spirits have left this land
that I still inhabit

I cannot carry their mantle
No, nay, never
Just keep writing
Give people a reason to read

I’m not the raconteur
or Nobel Prize winner
Just in the land
where they are no longer

They touched your lives
altered your world
That won’t change
but you will

She wove a tale
made you feel, laugh
He wrote with passion,
touched and taught you

They gave us a richer world
They shed the gifts they were given
They bled so that we could drink
They died but not in our hearts

Goodbye Liscannor

Goodbye Liscannor

Goodbye Liscannor

The brilliant sunshine has returned to bid me farewell
Waves are lapping, not crashing as before.

The mighty Atlantic takes on the deep blue of the sky
Forms a sharp line to define the horizon.

Magpies returned a few days ago from their summer haunt
To join the jackdaws, pied wagtails and chatty starlings.

A giant ladybug beckons me at the start of my walk
She is a big smooth river stone with a smile on her face

People park by the school to get a better look at the castle ruin
They hurry away with their cameras en route to the Cliffs of Moher.

A little car pulls up on the curb by the church and the window comes down
What time is Mass, do you know? Not sure, eleven or twelve I think.

My only other conversation is with a horse, just before I reach the little harbor
He wants a treat. He insists. He taps his foot on the ground. Again and again.

I haven’t got anything for you I say. But I’ll try to come back with a carrot.
Or a sweetie? Do you want a sweetie? His ears perk up. Yes, a sweetie he says.

March Moon

March Moon

March Moon

March moon is rising
higher and higher

Clearing the clouds
now blue, once on fire

Giant and glowing
The Way, it is showing

This is east
I am Luna

A perfect ball
Oh Fortuna!

Full as can be
over jagged mountain ridge

It is magic to see
for this world, a bridge

Follow me, she says
I will bring you home

You won’t go astray
or ever be alone

The Wind

The Wind

The Wind

it whistles around the windows

and roars down the chimney

the wind


it brutishly bends the bushes

and defeats the gulls

the wind


it chases the young hare

into its meagre wet form

the wind


it darkens the sea

and whips up the white caps

the wind


it blows torrents of water at us     

from the angry Atlantic

it switches around

and pelts the red wooden door    

the wind


the black night has fallen

and window frames tremble

the wind


there is no let up

of the ceaseless battering

the wind


it howls and bellows

I rule your world

The Wind

A Beautiful Place

A Beautiful Place

The cows meander to all four corners

of their field throughout the day.

One noisy machine breaks the quiet

Another rumbles by to bale the hay.


A hare bounds in to nibble dandelions

in the lush seafront cow’s field.

He goes practically unnoticed

There’s plenty of room, no need to yield.


The horse I decided to call Star

has made a sudden return.

How did he and his owner know

for him I did secretly yearn?


But wait—it appears there’s a companion

He’s got a new horsey friend.

Obscured somewhat by the wavy grasses

his coat of dark brown shines without end.


He handsomely sports a broad white stripe

down his long majestic nose.

A welcome addition he is indeed

as my eclectic menagerie grows.


No sooner do I begin to enjoy

my noble equine neighbors

Who certainly do spice up the landscape

with their vanilla and chocolate flavors


A beautiful paint to make a trio

has mysteriously been trailered in.

Will the other boys be standoffish as his

patches of chestnut and white contrast him?



I must not forget the gulls often gliding

above the sea and fields bordered by rock.

Along with the tiny and precious pied wagtail

who comprise my magnificent stock.


Last but not least in the animal kingdom

there is one more arrival

Perhaps to the jackdaw, who has been absent this morning

it will be an unwelcome rival?


The magpie has finally come back

to Clare from wherever it did roam.

The scene is now complete in Liscannor

a beautiful place we all call home.