Most every work day for more than 11 years, Dena wrote a love note, poem or other thought, on a napkin - and tucked it in Marshal's lunch - a ritual of the heart. At the beginning of 2009, Marshal started typing them up. It became our practice to share the Daily Napkin with you, OUR ritual of the heart. Then, in October 2015, Marshal retired, so the whole dynamic changed. Dena took several months to re-evaluate and decide what she was going to do. Since she is also simplifying, she is in the process of incorporating all 8 (including this one) websites into one. With that in mind, the poetry of the napkin is now joined with her art and/or photography images. May you enjoy them. May they feed your spirit.

Tuesday, June 26, 2018

    Monday, August 8, 2016

    The Journey

    You may find exhilarating storms of hope
    placid lakes of indifference
    and rushing streams of joy
    still throughout your intrepid journey
    the constant thread stitches all
    together in the heart

    Friday, June 10, 2016

    Cereus Joys of Caretaking

    From the prickly situation
    delicate bursts of gentle
    beauty  like love’s sweet
    whisper emerges
    in night’s darkness

    From the bristly service
    everyday full of tasks
    fraught with jabbing
    thorns of duty and grief 
    born of love’s responsibility

    In the still hours gloom
    past twilight’s settling
    tired hands tremble
    as the heart of the matter
    calls forth beauty

    Love blooms once more
    aching comfort in 
    a hushed moments rest


    The delicate cereus cactus blooms burst forth in the night. Being the caretaker for a declining family member has it's moments. —Dena

    Friday, May 6, 2016

    Sequoia Dreamtime

    Ancient massive trunks 
    towering up to the sky
    In your own dreamtime
    of centuries passing

    While temporal flashes 
    of color and movement
    from noisy two-leggeds 
    and skittering chipmunks 
    circulate around your roots
    And ravens wing through the air overhead

    I smell the subtle incense of your bark
    as it glows reddish gold 
    in the afternoon sunlight
    And gaze up at all the unspoken mysteries
    I will never know

    May your roots be
    ever wild and free, grandfathers,
    as you reach for the stars of the cosmos...

    Marshal McKitrick