I am in motion
but the day is
somehow still
Only rain for
my companion
Trees stand
motionless
as green leaves
drink in raindrops
So many days
passed without rain
Now, today, I walk
across liquid glass
I should uncover
my head, let the rain
fall where it will
but I don’t- well,
Only long enough
to unlock a door
and step inside
out of the stillness
Not ready to be a cog
in the busy wheel again
If only I’d lingered,
stood still, taken a
much-needed drink
And felt the approach
of this new season
precisely as the trees-
From my head to my toes
Tag: time
Simply Sunday
Simply Sunday is back! I participated in an author event yesterday, and several friends stopped by. 🩷
Inviting
It has the power
to convey a lifetime
Transcending years past
Instant recall
of sweet memories
as well as difficult days
Its beauty lives in the eyes
The way they twinkle,
glimmer with tears
A message
Clearly conveyed
I see you, I remember
And sometimes,
that sweet smile
acts as a magnet
Connecting past with
present, offering
hope for the future
Simply Sunday
Advice From a Common Box Turtle
Speed is not a reliable indicator
of a journey’s success
My wanderings take time
Or rather, allow time
Time to stop and
stretch my neck
Feel the sun on my face
Be still, and recharge
Rest my home, that
I may traverse this field
of green, at exactly
the speed required
To meet a new friend-
One who looks like me
Unique, colorful patterns
on their legs and shell
Or one quite different-
Tall and admiring, who
offers me sweet strawberries
As I continue on my journey
Playful Parcel
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.
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! 💛
Let Go of the Rope
I am standing in a field
holding tight to the
middle of a rope
A foolish attempt to
bring balance in an
unexpected tug-of-war
On my right, grief
grips the cord
with all its might
On my left, love
holds firm
Always fierce
Suddenly, I understand-
Neither one can let go
They are forever bound
Now I’m faced with a choice-
Allow the tug-of-war
to continue within me
or let go of the rope
Reach for images,
past and present,
patiently waiting in
the back of my mind
Watch, as grief and love
fall into each other,
simultaneously releasing
laughter and tears
I am lying in a field
having let go
of the rope-
Exhausted, grateful, content
My Favorite You
If I were to write a thankful list,
It would be a list of names.
Names of those who,
through the years,
planted seeds in my heart.
My only fear is forgetting.
Though forgetting your name
would certainly not negate
any seed you planted. You are
so much more than a name.
You are shared smiles and tears.
Strong hands, reaching, so arms
can fiercely wrap around hurts
in a comforting embrace.
You are kind words,
encouraging high-fives,
and celebrating victories.
You are faces, memories
of hope, present on
the darkest of days.
You are one soul seeing
the beauty and purpose in another.
And I am thankful to have
sometimes been that other.
I am thankful for all the yous
written on the list carried in my heart.
Hurry! Go Outside!
Like magic, pops of color
appear in the trees.
A seemingly sudden
transformation.
Leaves, once dark green,
now shiny apple red,
sunshine yellow,
and burnt orange.
Evergreens stand resilient,
in perfect contrast with
Aspens, Oaks, and Maples.
Appearing unchanged, but
transformed nonetheless.
The evolution seems
sudden, but it is not.
An invisible process
requiring sunshine, rain,
cool breezes, and patience.
One whose resulting beauty
will disappear as quickly
as it arrived. Or at least,
that is how it will seem.
Spacious
Sometimes my brain
feels overcrowded.
Like, there’s not enough space
for all my thoughts to process.
Then one word emerges
from the muck.
Spaciousness.
My busy thoughts pause-
It does exist.
Spaciousness.
Between the time you were born
and the person you’ve become.
Between the first dark cloud
of a storm and the last drop of rain.
Between each breath I take,
as I slow down to watch
clouds gracefully float past.
Simply Sunday
When you are two
The whole world
Is yours-
And you know it!
You hear your name
Over and over
Understanding
It belongs to you-
Once you can say it
The word my
Quickly follows-
My Mama
My Dada
My toy
My everything!
Sass and confidence
In such small packages-
As it should be
When you are two
Remembering how fast time passes…learning to celebrate the small moments. ❤
