Cushioned Steps

Each careful step
Across the floor
Cushioned by
Layers of history
What was once alive
Now protects as it
Deteriorates
Feeding the earth
Lying underneath
How many have
Come and gone
Taken these same steps
Across lines of
Time and space-
Did they notice
The Luna moth
Drying her wings
In frilly foliage
Of gentle ferns
Or the bright orange
Mushrooms
Peeking out from
Underneath
The fern leaves
Were their steps cushioned as well?
Steps that allowed
Time for pause
Time for soaking up
All the forest
Has to say
About the past
The present
And the future

Simply Sunday

Do We Truly See?

Today feels
Anything
But simple
It feels torn
I feel torn
Sunshine skies
In front of me
Clear and blue
A stark contrast
To the images
Of gray skies
Streets filled with
Ash and rubble
Seen on the news-
My mind knows
And history tells us
Not all people
Are free or safe
From the exploits
Of evil men
Yet, my heart
Is unable
To reconcile-
An image of
A Ukrainian mom
Her only thought
Protecting her family
From surrounding
Destruction and death…
I cannot know
The heaviness
Of her heart
Yet, I must not look away
Watching
Praying
For a glimmer of hope
A family reunited
While never
Forgetting
Images snapped
By cameras-
Images of death
And innocence stolen
For all the world to see-
Do we truly see?

Natural Progression

Clinging

The day
Left me
Deep
In thought
A day
Covered
In warm
Sunlight
And falling
Leaves
Sweet life in
Your small hand
Holding mine
As we walked across
Yellowing grass
Rosy cheeks
Squinting eyes
As you reached up
For me to lift you
As you reached up
And touched
The red leaves
Clinging
To the tree
A day
Covered
In life
While also
Holding space
For death-
I am left
Thankful
Clinging
To rest

A Warm Blanket

Just like that
The red leaves
Greeting me
With a smile
Every day for weeks
Fell to the ground
Their days of
Waving
In the wind
Left behind
A few remain
But if I asked
I’m sure they
Would admit
Being ready
To let go
And join
The others-
Though I knew
The day was
Approaching
That red blanket
Was a surprise
I felt sad
For a moment
Until I imagined
The warm grass
Underneath

Disclosure

Yesterday
My steps
Were heavy
Even the ones
Taking me
Where
I wanted
To go
Precious feet
Walked beside
In the sunlight
Of a clear
Fall day
Splashes
Of color
Painting
Our paths
Until the light
Slipped away
And heaviness
Completely
Draped
Demanding
To be named
Before sleep
Could come-
Now morning,
Fragments
Remain-
But I smile
At the beautiful
Pink sunrise

I have not written about depression lately. But honesty is my goal. And sometimes, admitting how I feel is the first step to feeling better. I love the fall colors and cooler temps. But when sunsets come earlier and cloudy days are multiplied, struggle sets in.

I am thankful for friends and family who understand and remind me it is ok.

The photo was actually taken a year ago. Matched today perfectly.

Freeze Frame

Pictures holding
History stored
In memory banks
Called to the surface
In a single snap
Of my fingers
Leaving me
Wondering
Why that?
Why now?
Why then?
Times I would
Like either
To forever
Forget or
Always
Remember
Each frame
Projecting
Enough
Power to
Push me into
A time-warp
Of emotions
Unless…
I slow down
Pay attention
Freeze
Each
Frame
Long enough
To grasp
This truth-
The past
Enriches
The present
Either by
Making me
Thankful
For changes
Grateful
For growth
Or content
With constants

Personal Collection

I drive past a picture-perfect scene every day. Red barn, green trees and meadows below rolling hills. Offering beauty and reasons for smiling. Looking for the two resident horses is always fun. Sometimes they are close to the road. Other times, resting under the shade of trees.

Recently I began to see additional residents in the field. Deer, from fawn to buck, grazing. Now I look for them each time I pass by. Twice, I witnessed them hopping and playing on the hillside. And grazing under the shade of a sprawling tree.

I attempted a photo from my car once. No luck. Another day, I pulled into a bank parking lot across the street. Snapped several photographs but was unable to fully capture what I saw driving past.

Maybe I will try another location, maybe not. For now, the images remain in my head. And I will keep adding to my collection with each drive past.

Horses rest and roam
Deer leap and play on the hill
Red barn proudly stands

Photo attempt from across the street.

Favorite Questions

What is your favorite color? Perhaps the most asked question of childhood.

You meet a new friend on the playground. What is your favorite color? Drawing a picture in art. What is your favorite color?

My answer is blue. I’m not sure it has always been blue. It seems I remember short periods of loving pink and purple. But now, it is blue.

A beautiful blue sky. My dad’s blue eyes. Waters flowing through lakes, rivers, streams. And of course, the ocean.

The varieties in shades of blue amaze me. I was reminded why on a recent drive down the Pacific Coast Highway.

Looking out over ocean views, I could see the color-changing lines in the water. A perfect separation, as if someone had painted one section then the next. And those blues continued as far as the eye could see, until finally meeting the blues of the sky.

Yes, blue is my favorite color. What is yours? 💙

Lingering on a Corner

Imagining
Rolling hills
Once covered
In grass and dirt
Graced
With trees
And fields
As far as
One could see
Now paved
Rolling hills
City streets
Perfectly lined
With building
After building
Architectures
New and old
Juxtaposed
To create
An endless
Visual puzzle
Architectures
As varied
As the languages
I hear while
Waiting in a line
For breakfast
City of diversity
In every sense
I’m captivated
And caught
Between
Wonder
And Grief
Marveling at
All that surrounds
While walking
Down sidewalks
So many call home

Two Poems

Elbows and Knees

I cried at the sight
Of you frail
Unaware of
My presence-
Chose to remember
Different images
On that day-
Tall and lanky
Uncanny ability
To sit comfortably
On your haunches
Elbows perched
On knees
Backside inches
From the ground-
My college senior
Piano recital
Me in my black dress
You in your blue
Cotton shirt and pants
Both beaming-
Five years later
Christmastime
My newborn son
Sleeping in your arms-
After you were gone
I saw your reflection
As my son sat
On his haunches
Elbows perched
On knees
Backside inches
From the ground-
Pictures of you
Held dear,
Grandpa

Workshirt

The morning
Is dark blue
The kind of blue
That almost
Looks black
But once
The sun rises
Turns to cerulean-
As the day
Progresses
The sky shifts
Until night washes
Over the work
Of the day
Bringing rest
To the Earth-
And rest to you
Handsome you
Strong you
Wearing your
Favorite blue shirt
Faded with time
As the dirt
And sweat
From a lifetime
Of hard work
Was washed away

I wrote the first poem specifically about my Grandpa Crow. He was a sweet man. Hardworking and loved to fish. The second could describe many different people from my growing up years. Maybe you can relate. 😊❤️

Visit to a Cemetery

I stood
At the foot
Of a grave
Shaded by
Lovely birch
On a rolling
Green slope
Overseen by
A church
Painted white
Filled with
History on
Both sides
Of glass panes-
I stood
At the foot
Of a grave
Cradling remains
Of those gone
From this earth
Centuries ago
Memories
Carved
In marble
Beloved
Daughter, wife, mother
Honored
Son, husband, father
I stood
At the grave
Of a poet
My heart touched
By remembrances
Of persons
I have never met