Wrap me securely
in afternoon blues-
Only not too tight
A white cottony cloud
gently cradled by
powder blue skies
A newborn baby
swaddled in a
handsewn blanket
Wrap me securely
in afternoon blues-
Only not too tight
Ease the weight
of my fears, as
teardrops freely fall
Bring peace that
lasts through the
deepest midnight
Wrap me securely
in afternoon blues-
Only not too tight
Tag: hope
Simply Sunday
Thankful
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. 🩷🕊️
Full Capacity
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
Catching Light
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
Stop Asking
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.
Breathless
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
Healing Rays
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
Simply Sunday
The wind’s sway
is strong today
Urging and drawing
This way and that
It is okay to hold on, Little Flower
But keep your eyes open
You never know what
new perspectives
The breeze might
have in store
Limited Power
There are moments,
A scream buried
deep inside begins
rising to the surface
Push it back down, steady-
Letting it out would
surely be unpleasant
Why is it there, anyway?
Big picture, I am ok
Still, frustrations pile
one on top of another
and another, attempting
a coup inside my brain
Truth is, their power is limited
One tangerine sky at the
end of a cool Spring day
and my heart instantly
returns to the helm
And that scream?
It dissipates in a single breath
In the Dirt
Days are long, but
Years are short.
Or so they say
That all elusive “they”
Who receives entirely
too much credit in our
passing days and years
I want to walk,
no, meander,
down a dirt path
Trees on both sides
Transformed into
a shady canopy
Listening to the breeze
Listening to the birds
Stopping only for a
Single ray of sunlight
Peeking through the leaves
To paint a picture
in the dirt just for me
No thought of days,
years, maps, or lists
Only the temporary
Becoming the eternal
I wrote this poem in a recent in-person poetry circle. Listening, reflecting, and writing with this group was a breath of fresh air. Highly recommend! 💛
Piano Girl 