Brushstrokes

Morning rises
Night falls
A continuous cycle
Framing daily
Comings
And goings
I trust it to happen
Sometimes, even
Press pause to
Catch a glimpse
And though
It takes place
Right in front
Of my eyes
I don’t actually
Know it’s happening
A transformation
So gradual
Never to be
Repeated
Brushstrokes
And colors
Forever new
Always ending
With light or dark
Visual changes
Left behind
In the heavens
Spiritual changes
Rested deep
Within the soul

Somewhere Between

The morning sky
Matched my mood
Midnight blue?
Hard to tell
Before sunrise

Glance to the right
A tiny streak of light
Somewhere between
Pale pink and white
Off in the distance

Glance to the left
Both me and the sky
Somewhere between
Asleep and awake
Moving forward

Traces of hope
One seeking
One displaying
As darkness
Transformed
To daylight

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.

Two Poem Tuesday

Almost Asleep

There’s
A span
Of time
Between
Awake and
Asleep
Where hazy
Melodies
Slow to
A gentle
Tempo
I wonder
How many
Measures
This space
Is capable
Of holding?

Trying to
Keep count
I am sadly
Awakened
Sleep evading
Allowing
The lullaby
To wash over
I am sweetly
Carried
To slumber
Melody
Forgotten
A mystery
Left for
Dreaming

Daylight Savings?

Time change?
How is that
Possible?
An enigma
At best
Lose an hour
Gain an hour
Tomorrow
Arrives the same
Sleep comes
No faster
Rest feels
No sweeter
At least not
From this
Sleepyhead
…until
My morning
Drive to work
Was no longer
Shrouded
In darkness
Instead,
A pretty
Pink sunrise

The word of the day, or the week, is sleep. It feels like I cannot get enough. It’s funny how gaining an extra hour makes me feel so tired. 😉

One More Glance

Searching
For a smile
Through fog
And darkness
Although
Not yet visible
Trusting
It is there
Waiting for
Just the right
Moment
To appear
Glance to one side
And then the other
Still no smile
Stepping out
Of the car
Deep sigh
One more glance
There it is!
A single strand
Of pink light
Between
The bluish grays-
I breathe deep
Smile back

Sunrise Greetings

A beautiful sunrise has the power to change my outlook on the day.  If…I remember to look up.  I wrote the first poem during a poetry writing circle facilitated by Ali Grimshaw.  Check out her blog at: http://flashlightbatteries.blog/

The second poem was in response to a specific morning.  One of those skies that just could not be ignored. ❤

Untouchable Beauty

Present every morning
A greeting in colors
Variations dependent
On the seasons
On the weather
On the moment
Sadly, the greeting
Is often ignored
The day rapidly
Approaching
Filled with too
Many worries
But then there
Are those times
Where the sky
Is so vibrant
Changing with each
Added ray of sunlight
I cannot help
But look upward
With gratitude
Accept the welcome
And lose myself
In untouchable beauty

Transformation

 Colors bathe the
 Morning sky
 Swaths of pinks
 And blues
 Smiling inside
 Around the
 Next curve
 Bright morning 
 Light peaks out 
 Over the horizon
 Illuminating
 Hints of vivid
 Oranges and
 Brilliant reds
 Another sip of
 Morning coffee
 Smiling on the outside
 Hopeful transformation
 In the morning skies
 Lifting my spirits 

Pinks and Reds

Morning clouds
On the horizon
Edges glowing
With shades of
Pinks and reds
Colors expanding
Until simple lines
Miraculously
Transform into
A beautiful sphere
Daily rising
Over the horizon-
Though colors
And brilliance
May vary-
A simple sunrise
Taken for granted
Until its hues
Can no longer
Be ignored
The blending of
Color and light
Begging for, while
At the same time,
Defying description
Leaving behind tiny
Traces of evidence
Imprinted on
The memory of this
Fortunate witness

Running Late 💗