frozen, though i sit before a fire.
whispering, though no one else is home.
asking, though answers seem irrelevant.
hungry, though my body has been fed.
the romance of winter
begins to give way
to an endless restlessness,
this craving for forest,
this longing for moon.
such a long way to go
before i get there,
as i sit here,
melting snowflakes
in this room.
There is always color to be found on the greyest of days,
food for thought when your mind feels so hungry.
Seeds cling to these branches because that is life, regenerating.
Cold winds blow and we scurry inside, hibernating, resting,
staying still, so that later we can race spring’s first breeze.
These cycles of life hold the promise of tomorrow.
The shortest day of winter is behind us, already.
The longest day has begun inching its way towards us,
slowly, almost imperceptibly.
The trees feel it first, but trees are so good
at keeping secrets.
shadows dance around corners
to sing their own version of blues
morning frost leaves patterns on windows
unique as the day that will melt them
hope jumps through hoops in the garden
as a chickadee searches for seed
and i sit in this chair in my kitchen
watching life through a smile
and a curtain
:: :: ::
:: ::
this post is part of one word wednesday over at jillsy girl
and one shot wednesday at one stop poetry
breathing flowers in, after dawn.
simple words that get stuck in my throat, for days.
moments in mid-afternoon that bring tears to my eyes.
sunsets waiting on the horizon, always with a promise.
a mirror that refuses to show what lies beneath the surface.
seasons that rattle through my chest, calling me to remember.
blisters that heal and become callouses, rough evidence of pain.
a heart that breaks in its own small way each time you turn a page.
the constant digging for my soul that wears my fingers to the quick.
a silver necklace that says hope, left broken on the dresser.
making molds of the moon to keep in a glass jar.
standing in the dark, listening for sunrise.
a song that whispers even as i sleep.
threading words on needles and pricking my finger.
that one drop of blood, there, on the corner
of the page.
a moonlit night
forsaken on a bed
of wilt and roses
ophelia
we loved you all
dancing in the pale
silver spotlight
singing in the breeze
of your reflection
seeking love’s own touch
beneath the darkness
:: :: ::
A poem I wrote 25 years ago,
25 years of life and love and living
and the words still ring true,
still fit, perfectly.
So I wear them this day, this day to
Just sit there and look pretty
having never felt pretty, never thought of myself like that
never just sat there either, always got up
always was the butterfly, no, the bee
head down, gathering bits of honey
working hard to add some sweet
to a slightly bitter world.
:
:: :: ::
.
this post is part of the just sit there and look pretty challenge.
go here to see all the pretties…
there are days when i whine
and days when i cry
and days when the world tastes bitter.
but the thing i love best
about this mad life
is that just after one of those days
you might just wake up
to one of these days.
lights out, time for sleep, sitting here
in the dark
in the quiet
the only sound the baseball game
still playing in the bedroom as my husband sleeps
there is always a game on somewhere in the house
i don’t mind, it has become the background music of my life
sometimes i turn baseball on when i am here alone
just because it feels normal, soothing
it is late, very late, i should be asleep
but i sit here
fingers itching to write
not sure what they want to say, these fingers
but i let them talk anyway
i wish i could sit here in the dark, in the night, in the quiet
not so tired, and listen to the night
or that game or just the sound of my own breath
i wish it was that night, but instead it is a night
when i am too exhausted to go to bed
another time i will sit here
in the dark
in the quiet
in the night
i will listen
Timing is everything.
On Wednesday I went running. It was a hot day, not humid, not a cloud in the sky. Perfect. The trail was fairly empty, still lush and green and mostly covered in dappled shade. As I approached my second mile, I noticed a man on a bicycle coming towards me, still quite a distance away. At the same time, I saw a flash just in front of him, a bird’s wing as it cut across the path. At first I thought it was a robin, and then, no, too big. A crow?
Only it didn’t cut across, it turned, away from him, towards me. And in an instant. as it passed through a patch of sunlight, I saw that it was actually a hawk. My bird. And it was moving straight down the path, waist high, painting flight with broad strokes of its wings. It did not waiver, or veer, or act like it was lost. It kept on, headed right in my direction, glinting gold as it passed through patches of sunshine.
I kept running, although I was mesmerized. And it kept coming, straight for me. And then, when it was about fifteen feet away, it rose up over my head and continued on down the path. I couldn’t quite have reached out and touched it, but if my arms were five feet longer, I think I could have.
And here’s the thing: I had planned to go running much earlier that day, hours earlier, in fact. But things came up, I pushed my run back, minutes went by, then hours. And in the end, it all came down to seconds. Three seconds later, and I would have missed a sight that I will never forget.
A sight that is imprinted in my mind like the memory I have of my last dog, running towards me around the corner of our house, cantering like a horse, shiny black in tall green grass. He was happy in that moment, a big doggie smile on his face. His joy was evident. Two days later he was gone, suddenly and unexpectedly, and I have always wondered if I sensed what was to come, because I almost felt my mind snap a picture, recording that moment, him, just then, just there, in that spot. Forever.
And then there is the encounter I had with a bear while camping once, she on one side of the campfire, me on the other, the three men I was with, city boys, in the water. (Yes, I told them, as they ran for it, that bears will go in the water.) But they stayed where they were, and I stayed where we had all been just seconds before, by the fire. She looked at me, trying to focus through the smoke and the flames, wagging her big head back and forth. Our eyes met and she held my gaze for one brief second, and then turned and walked away.
I can see it still, in my mind.
And now, this giant, graceful hawk, flying straight down a path towards me. Golden wings glinting on and off through sun, then shade, and sun again. The white spotted belly that I followed as he vaulted up over my head.
I’m pretty sure he plucked a feather from my soul just at that moment, when I looked up and saw him silhouetted in the sun.
Because after that, for the rest of my run,
I flew.
summer again
yesterday’s cool breezes just a tease
waves of heat that whisper and shimmer
humidity dancing in a twenties flapper dress
and these dried out flowers that periscope up
to keep one eye on winter
setting seed for birds that will shiver
in the light of tomorrow’s dawn.
This was the moon two nights ago. I was just about to go to bed, had just gone out to the kitchen to get myself some water, when I saw this outside my window:
So I put my shoes on, my pajamas were okay (no neighbors), and I went out to see if I could capture what I saw. This is close, although technically, it’s not a great picture. I didn’t use a tripod, it’s blurry, the moon is blown out. But this shot captured the mood pretty well, and I kind of like it.
I love that the moon is not the same every night, it changes as moods vary, auras shift, different spots are illuminated.
I thought about how love is not the same every night, either.
And about 26 really slow-exposure shots later, I had drawn myself a moonheart. The picture below is exactly the same as the picture above, same placement, same exposure.
Except that I moved my hand in the shape of a heart.
And yes, it is upside down, but here’s the thing: I drew it right side up, and I know that it is a camera-mirror thing, and I could have flipped it in Photoshop. But, the trees were still facing up??? and I couldn’t quite figure that out, which didn’t matter because actually
I loved that even though I had drawn it right side up,
my heart ended up upside down.
Plus I drew a heart using the moon as my pencil.
