Inspiration comes in fits and spurts, laced with time, warmed with the heart. Each of my offerings began with a whisper, a pause to see, hear, and reflect.


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Mushroom Caps

Mushroom Caps

Rain begins the game
The start of a village
Our caps protect
The undergrowth 
Spores galore 
Savor moisture
The fungi cushion
Caps in all shapes, colors 
Spread across the terrain
A salute to diversity
Heals souls
We create a village

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Raindrops Traveling Through a Cloud

Raindrops Traveling Through a Cloud

The wind carried my teardrop
To the clouds above
Thunder and lightning struck
Delicate strands of love
Already heavy with ocean spray
The tear mingled 
With evaporated hope
Salty remnants tingled
A flash, a burst, a pause
As atoms clashed
Wonders ignited
Moon beams splashed
A rainbow of emotions
Filled the puddle below
Glistening, listening
Reflections aglow
The wind blew 
The clouds disappeared
Thunder mumbles
My tears cleared

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The Walker

The Walker

On a small island, I’m the character
In the city, I don’t matter
A country home gives me anonymity
Neighbors question with ambiguity
Who is the lady walker
Sometimes talker
Rain or shine I make my rounds
I see stories unfold
Of young and old
Babies arrive
Dogs die
Always alone, I keep the peace
Even when I’ve called the police
From their windows they notice
If I fail to show
They will know.

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Calls from Above

Calls from Above

I hear your calls or are they pleas?
Meet me at the Oatmeal Cloud
It’s time to share a cup of tea
Or make your latte, as you choose.
Your star flickers, a dim shadow
Don’t waver with your projects
Your unending desire for change
The time has come to leave
I await you as I promised
Arms wide, a cartoon hug
Ready to embrace your remains
I promise to be more gentle
More storms will come
A rainbow or two
Why stay when I’m up here?
Who holds you tethered?
My answer is simple
Hope is a gift of the living
I’ll stay till the young one’s sing
Voices strong to the Heavens
Youth, my tulips of spring
Lying in wait, to blossom
With new energy
I’ll rise in my own good time.

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I dreamt the impossible
Keen visions of a life enveloped 
In wisdom
Aged like wine
Savored lips, seldom sipped
Slim fortunes developed
Skies the limit
Giddy clouds of soul’s spirit.

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Treasures of Inspiration

Treasures of Inspiration

Nuggets picked up along the way
Mental pockets of visions.
The glimmer of water droplets on a spider’s web
The doe eyes of a deer mesmerized at my presence
The sound of frogs croaking in unison
The fringes of an unfurling fern frond
The white crown of an eagle soaring 
The flat stone that fits in my palm
The mornings hush
The evenings calm
Pockets filled with the days wishes.

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About Abbe

Abbe Rolnick grew up in the suburbs of Baltimore, Maryland. Her first major cultural jolt occurred at age 15 when her family moved to Miami Beach, Florida. To find perspective, she climbed the only non-palm tree at her condo complex and wrote what she observed. History came alive with her exposure to Cuban culture. After attending Boston University, she lived in Puerto Rico, where she owned a bookstore. Once Stateside, she capitalized on the knowledge she gained as an independent bookstore owner and worked for one of the finest bookstores, Village Books, in Bellingham, Washington. Once a CEO of a manufacturing firm and owner of a healthy foods café, she is now retired and spends her time writing.


Follow Along

All photos on this site and in all of Abbe’s Notes are copyright by her husband: Jim Wiggins.

As a writer, I write to an audience who believes I have something to say. This is Jim Wiggins, my muse. I write and he listens to my morning thoughts.  His gift to me, is that he receives these thoughts and believes they have significance. Some are profound, others silly, mundane, or inspiring.  A voice needs an ear.  Jim provides visuals to my thoughts as he travels our world documenting life.

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