Newly opened buds
drinking gentle
morning rain
Pines across the
way, soaking in
the afternoon sun
Downy woodpecker
perched on newly
found suet feeder
My heart seeing
Your sweet smile
through the window
My doubts fading
as other hearts
intently listen
I know the world feels heavy, but today I am choosing reasons to be thankful. Though they may seem simple, acknowledging them brings a little peace. 🩷🕊️
Pink and white azalea blossoms
fall with the gentlest breeze-
A soft blanket on dark, rich soil
Soon, the foundation of
roots, stems, and leaves
will be all that remains
of them until next Spring
Newly planted Bubblegum
Pink Petunias, the babies
of this small flower bed
Huddle quietly, calmly
waiting for roots to take hold
so they can dance, dance, dance
Joseph’s Coat, variety
Alternanthera Chartreuse-
Bright, young, and green,
Their faithful protector
Countless lifetimes
lived in one minuscule
fragment of rich terra firma
Capacity for growing
Capacity for living
Capacity for dying
Capacity for remembering
A constellation of water droplets
clings tightly to my window
Tiny spheres sparkling bright
as the brightest stars
shining in the darkest dark
So close, separated only
by a single pane of glass
not millions of light-years
My hands can touch neither
the droplets nor the stars-
Yet, each embraces me
Heart, mind, and soul-
Assuredly the most
endearing enfolding
Like the quiet twinkle
in your eyes, a welcome
endless embrace
Today I decided to revisit a poem I wrote our first Easter without Dad. That was three years ago. Oh, how I miss him. Both lists continue to grow.
I know the joy of
celebrating firsts
Smiles
Steps
Words
Birthdays
The one celebrated
too young to remember
Only later seen through
stories and photographs
I know the sadness
of grieving the last
Birthday
Anniversary
Bear hug
I love you
The one remembered
present in tears, smiles
and hearts grateful for
memories held close
Happy Easter, friends! May hope hold hands with your grief. 🕊️💜🌷
A piece of the puzzle, yes,
But which one?
An edge, providing guidance
A corner with two straight sides
Or the one with so many
knobs and sockets
the fear of never being found
cannot be dismissed
But a puzzle with even
One missing piece remains
Incomplete
Undone
Leaving hands and eyes
frantically searching-
So, I guess
It really doesn’t matter
Edge, corner, or the knobs
and sockets that finally
complete the last
section of pale blue sky
Each one belongs-
So, why is it
I can’t seem to stop asking
Where do I fit?
I am enjoying my first experience at the Scissortail Creative Writing Festival in Ada, Oklahoma! And while listening to so many amazing writers may allow a bit of imposter syndrome to creep in, it is above all encouraging and inspiring.
Stretched across the sky
A swimmer, graceful and strong
Head tilted to one side
One arm stretched out in front
The other by her side, mid stroke
Gliding across the blue
Legs stretched out behind
feet gently kicking-
Every muscle engaged
Strange, the thought of
swimming across the sky
instead of the ocean
Arms reaching for
a pink moon, instead
of the sandy shore
Images stretched across
a blue canvas-Breathless-
Clouds, swimmer, and observer
A melody fluttered
across the sky
Notes patterned
In twos, threes, and fours
An invisible string
Gently coaxing them
along a wavering staff
Unusual notes, clad
in feathers that fluffed
with each released tone
I couldn’t hear the music.
But felt grateful, nonetheless
A joyful witness to
Downy soft improvisation
My eyes are closed
The sun’s intense heat
warms my face
Its rays attempt
to pierce my eyelids
Sun spots gently float
across the black
in front of my eyes
I fight the urge to sneak a
peek at my surroundings
My body needs this time-
Time enough to lose
all sense of time
Focused only on keeping
my eyes closed
While sinking deeper into
this out of the blue, but
most welcomed, warmth
A perfectly posed pair
Painted in ombre shades
of tan, brown, and white
Their rounded beaks
poised, ready to speak
in sweet solidarity
Their audience of
captivated cattails,
ready to listen
Something tells me
It won’t be a long speech
A lesson in commitment
and contentment, perhaps
Thankful for each other
and their current view
It’s been three days
since I saw you
running and playing
in the field with
your friends
Or perhaps,
They were your siblings
I smiled at the sight
of your frolic- and though
I couldn’t stop and
take in the whole
The space encircling me
magically slowed enough
to plant the lovely scene
inside a recollection box
And here I sit, three
days later, smiling again
at the motion-filled painting
expanding in my mind from
one brief moment of noticing
Parcel: a reference to a small group of young deer.
Piano Girl 