I often get frustrated
with my own. The way
they become jumbled,
like a bowl of alphabet soup.
Isolated letters are visible
But I feel lost as to
how they fit together.
Other times, my thoughts
become frantic, building
one upon another.
A growing snowball of worries
rapidly rolling down a hill-
Ignoring my calls to stop.
But, is there such a thing as better thoughts?
I suppose not. After all, my thoughts
belong only to me.
And now and then,
in the middle of the chaos,
I take a deep breath and
clearly hear one thought
above the rest-You are enough
Tag: encouragement
Simply Sunday
Returning Customers
Her quiet way and
seasoned mannerisms
eased my impatience
I watched as she wrote
each order in shorthand
on paper tickets
Waited as she entered prices
one key at a time on an
old-fashioned cash register
She was part of a well-oiled
machine concerned with
service and product, not speed
Have you been here before?
Yes, this is my second visit
We love returning customers
Right, Alex? Glancing behind me
Looking back at me, she smiled
You have a beautiful smile
An unexpected compliment
while ordering lunch
I smiled back, Thank you
Crisis Averted
The morning air was damp-
Did I brush my hair
before stepping outside?
The feeling of hurry wasn’t helpful-
funny what makes me frantic
Well, maybe not frantic
but slightly concerned-
A dying phone battery
being away from home
bringing the wrong charger-
Purchase made, crisis averted
Sitting quietly with my
tea and my thoughts
Hopefully my curious smile
reaches past my frazzled
brain and frizzy hair
Enjoying a weekend of being surrounded by fellow writers! Writercon
Learning, relearning, and someone even said unlearning. 🤍🩶
Simply Sunday
Have you ever noticed
how certain clouds
appear so put together?
Smooth and round,
every particle in place.
Gleaming against their
bright, blue background.
Gliding gracefully
through the day.
And then there are the others.
Honestly, I think they
outnumber the first.
Frazzled, edges a little rough.
Looks like they survived
a tornado or hurricane.
Typically draws a second look.
Color is the same, as is
their current backdrop.
Particles are the same, only shifted.
Perhaps they need a
gentle breeze, accompanied
by a genuine smile.
That is, if clouds
respond to smiles.
Fear and Hope
The Unknown
Thought of with excitement,
or overwhelming fear.
For me, the fear part usually
rises in the middle of the night.
Like waking up from a dream
with a sudden Gasp!
Except, this kind of fear is not a dream.
Dream or no dream, I have
no control over the outcome.
And worrying about all that remains unseen,
does nothing to enhance my state of being.
Not to say it is easy to push the fear away, but I keep trying…
Breathe.
Look out the window.
Find that glimmer of hope
calling to your soul, ready and waiting
to swallow up your fears.
Her Song
I know her song,
though it changes often.
Depends on the day’s path.
Does she choose her own?
I wonder.
When traveling through
A grove of Aspens,
her melody is gentle and sweet.
Each glistening leaf
adds a note of color.
When coursing over rough rocks
on the shoreline, her melody
grows stronger, driving forward
with each pulse of the current.
Both melodies, both paths,
inspire awe and wonder.
Listen. What is she singing for you today?
Poems from the poetry circle. ❤️
Hide-n-Seek
You attempted to hide
From me this morning
But I saw you-
Your light is not
One so easily dimmed-
Like the morning sun
Resting behind the clouds-
Look closely
And you will find
Its presence visible
In pale pink streaks
All across the sky-
And once you see
Those pale pink streaks
You’ll be reminded
That even the tiniest
Reflections of your light
Offer encouragement to those
Fortunate enough to cross your path-
Even when you attempt to hide
Neighbors
At first glance
I saw a man
Back slumped, head down
Weathering the storms
In this life-
Not giving up
But, oh, so tired-
If only I could see his face
Faces often tell our stories
Our eyes allowing
An elusive glimpse into the soul-
But his back was turned
And I passed by too quickly
For any other possibilities-
One more glance
In my periphery-
Oh, it was not a man
It was an old piece of wood
Worn down from
A different set of storms-
No longer holding branches
That held leaves
No longer able
To reach toward the sun-
It was not a man
But it easily could have been
Back slumped, head down
Not giving up
But, oh, so tired-
Still able to reach
Toward the sun
With a little help
And encouragement
After sharing an elusive glimpse
With a neighbor-one soul into another
Personal Preference
Which do I prefer?
Remaining on the inside
Hiding, peeking out-
Seeing, imagining
Yet, in a way,
Falsely protected-
-Or-
Stepping outside myself
Away from the walls
Originally placed
To keep out pain
And uncertainty-
Hiding may sound
Like a safer choice
Stepping out, a bit scary-
In which frame of reference
Do I see myself as an integral
Part of the world?
Not simply a bystander
But one ready to explore
Or at least willing to invite you
To climb over the walls-
I think I know the answer
In the Stitches
I have described it before
A safety net
Of people and memories
Sewn together with care
Each stitch increasing
The vastness and strength
Of the shelter
Fashioning a living
Security blanket
To wrap me
And those I love
In the knowledge that
We are never alone-
Now grown
I see myself in the stitches
Understanding even more
The comfort and
Encouragement
In this welcoming refuge
Where whether weak or strong
I am never out of place
Smiling Blue
A lovely patch of blue
Smiles from behind
Stormy gray swirls–
Its presence like that
Of a trusted friend
Their hand resting
On my shoulder
Offering calm assurance
And a wise reminder-
There are always storms
Out in front, left behind,
Or directly overhead –
But the rain travels
From head to heart
Washing away stormy grays
To reveal the lovely
Patch of blue
Residing inside of you
Piano Girl 