Tag Archives: nature

from whispers ~

01 Monday May 2017

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these hands

where
beginning
just this now
from roots forgotten fell
to make of weeds
a bushel more
than e’er my lips
could tell
from whispers
once a secret kept
awake most all night long
words I scarce remember
yet my heart
has made to song
where paper fails
shelves
where none are felt
a vault is lined
with buttercups
and lace
linen was my color
more lavender than blue
verse infused
to fill my blood
with you

. . .

tethered ~

20 Thursday Apr 2017

Posted by in a time for telling, home, Poetry

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12998626_10153643973946275_7704908785686098454_n

“Sometimes, in the midst of a crazy day or a crazier week, I get an email from my brother, ‘meet you below the falls in five minutes’. And just like that, I am somewhere else, breathing in the cold spray from high above, as laughter echoes off canyon walls. Even now, I close my eyes and hear the wonderful music that is bare feet on flat rocks.”

If we’re fortunate, we realize the blessing in the midst of its becoming rather than only in retrospect. In doing so, we free ourselves from bitterness, regret, and a future filled with frustration as we attempt to re-write the past.

In doing so, we erase the illusion that is time.

While the body may be tethered to the advance of hours, years, seasons, love is not. As someone near and dear to me commented recently, ‘How time dissolves in the mind, when our frame of reference is simply love …’

Touché

breach of destinies ~

07 Tuesday Mar 2017

Posted by in Poetry, Storytelling

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floating_petals

blush
where once
the summer fell
to make no sound at all
cedars crashed
beside their brothers
tall

wings –
a sweet inclusion
come fly away with me
beyond the hues
was there
we knew –
the breach of destinies

wrapped in whispered
secrets –
tied with cords of lace
where times before
the past is left
– surrendered now
to grace

love
where not a word
resounds
to tell of how it was
days beyond
our counting –
a silence filled
with us

. . .

falling past ~

01 Wednesday Feb 2017

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sweetly

for moments
still to wander
backwards into time
beyond the first
memory of sound
of love
within the quiet
a liquid lullaby
how swift
returns the coming back
to lie beneath
the pines
void of all
transgressions –
the ghost
of waiting cast
eternities
are held a breath apart
where once we fell
into this dream –
another falling
past

…

light through the window ~

17 Tuesday Jan 2017

Posted by in Storytelling

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always

As of late, it seems I struggle with words.

No, that’s not right. It’s not a struggle really. It seems more I am resigned to a place unfamiliar (and yet not). It is a quiet peace, perhaps even a place created by grief, but not unwelcomed or uncomfortable.

It is a time of adjustment, acceptance, and clarity ~ a period of understanding that I have wondered might be related to aging, loss, or faith. Regardless, it is not cursed or filled with anxiousness. It is an unexpected blessing, a realization of grace, of love.

I miss my daddy, but it is not an ache that leaves me restless, looking for answers that I already possess. Rather, it is the little things where I find myself wishing he could share it with me (just before realizing that he does). When I round the curve on the road home and notice a group of more than twenty deer in the field near the woods; in wings fluttering along the fence line as I tend the feeder; a light through the window when I awake to the sound of my name.

Blessings.

Time is nothing but an invisible marker, a thread binding us forever to a moment – or rather binding the moment to us so that it is always the same, as near as our next breath. Ours.

We are never without love.

. . .

waltzing in silence ~

14 Monday Nov 2016

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nature_autumn_forests_paths_mist_red_leaf_wallpaper_2560x1600_www-wallpapersub-com

as a waterfall
maple –
the color of love
of blood
was the believer
come
waltzing in silence
toes gliding so
‘cross ages
when you loved me
(I know)
the seasons
restarted –
a flower renamed
where yesterday’s
seed
slept alone
dreaming of somewheres
another goodbye
– ways we might
wander (again)
caught in the spinning
of blushing to gold
leaves where a kiss
couldn’t go

. . .