love on wings

Hello, welcome, sit a spell, thank you for your visits.  Tea, coffee, hot chocolate anyone?  Përshëndetje, مرحبا, Привет, Hola, Zdravo, Ahoj, Hej, Hallo, Tere, maligayang pagdating, hei, bonjour!, Ola, Guten Tag!, γεια σου, שלום, हैलो, hello, halo, ciao!, sveiki, labas, hallo, سلام, witaj, Olá, salut, здороваться, здраво, ahoj, zdravo, ¡hola!, hej, สวัสด ี, merhaba, привет, xin chào

All of you who stop for a visit, read my missives, then leave me notes of joy or wonder, know that I am grateful for you beyond measure, beyond words.   The gifts we have received of writing, reading, being able to share with each other on this heartfelt level will surely shift the world.  Gratefully, I say a prayer for you all.  May we all know a world of peace.

Heart Listening

There is a wind that whispers

only in Flagstaff, Arizona

near the corner

of I-40 and St Mary’s Blvd.

A wind that stops your feet moving forward

so your heart may become aware of

the birds sharing their secret places,

where they fly to find those

warm toasted pumpkin seeds

Melinda leaves on the window sill

for that special breakfast,

only she knows how to make.

The Gardener’s Shadow

Peter Gardener Shadow

The umbrella

Known as a Southern live oak

Waits for her heart

Arms open, waiting for an embrace

Roots tethered to the ground,

Unable to run to him

As she once did in another life

Remembered in whispers…

As the morning lavender light rises

Around the east corner of her trunk

He appears wearing a Panama hat,

Carrying a pale aqua watering jug

That provides her nutrition,

Slurps and gulps of his blessings

And while her leaves flirt with the wind

He leaves his shadow near her heart

So she’ll never forget…

The shadows her gardener leaves behind.


All rights reserved. ©2019 by Sara Fryd

God Builds NO Walls

An opening in the border wall for cattle to move from Mexico to the States. Arizona has just three cattle ports along its entire border.

Tyrants, dictators never remember history.

Never remember that Berlin came down in hours

The Great Wall is now walked upon

By tourists from other countries,

And the Roman Colosseum mostly exists in selfies

As a background for smiling faces

So our current powerful clown

With his wing man Moscow Mitch

A nightmare from our childhood, steals food from

Welfare children and mothers trying to feed them

Then sends black women back to Somalia

While our current impotent Congress

Afraid of shadows in the afternoon

Hiding behind the Washington Monument

Disregarding the Lincoln Memorial

Forgetting the history of this amazing country

Does nothing…

Except approve ownership of AK-47s

A Soviet invention

Approved by the Soviet aligned impotent Congress

Sold by Walmart

On sunny weekend afternoons

With the ammunition enough to kill twenty oblivious folks

In El Paso…

And Moscow Mitch is angered by his nickname

As his wife steals another $40,000 in stock

Authorized by her boss Donnie the clown

The wall builder who never heard that “it’s the space

Between the bars that keep the tiger in the cage.”

On Judgement Day Donnie can explain to God

Why he never created a bridge for people to cross

He only built walls,

Knowing, God never builds walls

Walls never keep people out.

Walls only keep people in.

All rights reserved © 2019 Sara Fryd

Cats in Antique Shops

When you behave badly

Or cheat another

Or yourself

You carry that pain with you

Like trash you wish you could throw away

Accidents and illnesses follow you

Goodness and happiness disappear

Attaching themselves to others

In order to grow…

When you act rightly (says the Little Prince)

Treating yourself and others kindly

If for no other reason than “because”

You are a safe place

A place to grow and thrive.

Joy attaches itself to you

Like presents with love written on them

Found in corners of antiques shops

For friends you cannot stop longing for

No matter their

Distance from home…


*There are three special people whom I love who also love cats.

This is for Trudy, Shoshana, and Josh.

An Empty House




I wanted to matter

To you

So much

But you didn’t hear me

Or maybe you couldn’t


Or see

For so many reasons

I lost count

It seemed the more

I tried

The harder I worked

At us

The more alone I became

And when you finally

Remembered I mattered

All my footsteps, my music

No longer lived in our home


All rights reserved. ©2018 by Sara Fryd