conscience is a stream, leaves fall but it sounds like rain; strum instead of fade. seasons, they say, change and Autumn begins to weep. Mary sings of sugar but it’ll take more than a spoon life in brown, red and golden hues.
drove this afternoon, so I wouldn’t have to listen to my thoughts the music helped, but I keep thinking on how everything has changed.
no, not just foliage within the trees or in the depths of the ditches, but in all cases. there’s an old homestead I wanted to take pictures of, my destination was set for the day. Go back and visit what makes sense, Aud.
as I stopped to turn in, a wedding was just letting out, I smiled at their choice of location. Country, prairie and simple seems easy. how fun to imagine his stare and all the dresses, the devotion and all the extras.
the children are safe after a weekend with their father, pleasantries were extended, college life in full swing and real life looks good on them even from afar, babies no longer, maybe now momma should breathe.
as night settles in – outside – I gave thanks for the light of the moon, peeking through the leaves still green, as bright as a headlamp, it would seem, and brought with it an element of peace.
my prayers for you the same today as yesterday, and I’ll visit them again with each tomorrow. yes, so much is changing and maybe it’s time, yet I’m fully aware, even with faith in our Lord, I am frightened and full of sorrow.
this morning’s noises echo facts of summertime dwindling. a crow’s call to advance spur last night’s crickets, still rubbing within the window well. my heart swells with hope which confuses me, and the neighbor lady sweeps her deck.
he found me sitting, legs crossed black leggins with a bit cut out just where attraction begins
he smelled all around me, even the book I was holding. he offered static pause so I could watch, his energy and legends felt deep within me. I wasn’t as terrified as most would have been his presence came through peacefully and i found myself worshiping him.
looking back he wandered off slowly, maybe sensing the aroma of another or giving up on me and I was left to assume
when he becomes
more than just a dream,
my heart will beat
the sound of a thousand drums
my soul will ache
with the clinching of needy fists
my mind will race
towards a feminine understanding,
and butterflies will
make sense again.
sing of sweetest sorrow your passion enduringly true confide and scurry along our path sparrow, your work is rarely through come covered in autumn’s colors, bits adorning, of where you flew where have you been, my love and will our walk continue
when springtime disappoints
and autumn refuses to speak,
paint a word picture; create poetry.
write of summertimes lost,
oh, how does it go:
lemons and lemonade…something.
winter’s production of an early snow:
verdant and virgin frost,
yes, two Vs – funny.
take me to where optimists dream
and abandon me there, leave me be.
i hear sunshine although the tone too low or far away to devour or identify. there’s sparks offered out into the world and they come from your eyes. a gentle smile given in part for those blessed to be near you and those who trust your heart. i yearn, dream knowing one day life will continue as it was meant be.
Exhausted leaves falling
Past my window
Pane. Just as ashes
of Jerico, the same.
Division is an end
and new begins.
Remind me of adieu,
Front of my mind,
And nothing stops
The hands of time.
Search for rebirth
And find me in you.
Where grace continues
Eastern traveling breeze
Flows with essence,
Picks up my aura, seductive
And passes out my window,
As my desire for you
Teases with frosted sunshine
Allowing for a clear and
crisp prelude, Muse.
What once was,
Is now History,
And you belong
My friend, Shari, encouraged me to write from A to Z.
As many of you know, her wisdom, writing and compassion has been a blessing in my life. I began sharing my poetry here in 2013 and she, along with many others, has encouraged even my weakest of heart.
I believe this challenge is just what I need to push myself. I will try. I haven’t set any sort of timeline for this, but my intentions are to keep revealing as routinely as possible.
I also think it’s important to recognize that I haven’t weighted this challenge with any sort of expectation or intended outcome. I’m no longer interested in disappointment or how it makes me react. This I offer to you as it is, just as I’ve always tried to offer myself.
I write to feel. Allowing myself movement freely. A window into my soul. I’ve chosen to leave each poem as it was firstly written. Quite humbling to see where my mind sits to wait over time.