directional pull
whitely season of splendor
brutal gut punch
Stone Cold
Tag Archives: Inspiration
Appealingly Nonsensical
Watching snow fall, not blow, but spill beautifully as if paid to do so by Hollywood, I find myself smiling. We could have prayed for years and never received this gorgeous day. Hours of complete enjoyment were ahead. We needed the moisture, and I knew we were finally seeing it, so contentment overwhelmed my heart.
I recalled a conversation about precisely how many feet of snow it would take for an inch of rainfall – yet I can’t for the life of me remember what the amount was, and so I giggle. Typical Audrey. I used to have people around to remember those details. I try not to allow any negative thoughts when I can’t recall useful data because this, some would see as irresponsible, is me. I’ll chalk it up to not necessary enough and move on with smirk across my lips.
I find pleasure scooping snow while snowflakes fall one after another, some bigger than others. Not a breeze to be found, curious how we don’t normally refer to the wind as a breeze in the wintertime, but somehow yesterday the lack of came to me as such, while I threw another scoop of white to my left. Life appearing so peaceful and possibly perfect.
While others wait to forge a path outside, I find serenity scampering about doing small things, all the while listening for nature to wake. Silly squirrel presses forward slowly and leaps for a nearby tree. I consider how useful a new bird feeder would have been this morning and silently scold myself for not making that a priority in September and all the months that followed. It appears I was successful in punishing myself, although I had no idea I would be doing so at the time. Kept from the enjoyment I find in watching for cardinals, but made a note to get a new one next time I was in town. We shall see.
I ponder the quiet outdoors and how well I can hear myself breathe. My mind is open to possibilities, and how easy life can is if we stop and just do what comes naturally. Maybe you find it nonsensical, but a winter storm energizes me. All my daily musts are replaced by the here and now – and I do so love living in the moment as there is less time to ponder the what ifs. My muscles are tender, yet my mind clear.
* Just some thoughts & a silly little picture of the before and after of yesterday’s snowfall. I adore how safe the green bush appears after the snow. One powerfully protected by the other, it seems. Love that.
Always, Love
Sometimes people don’t realize what they’ve been offered, is room to grow,
space to breathe, heal, try something new, make decisions, and even complete final drafts.
Care: It isn’t always a verb. ‘Tis also a noun. The provision towards what is necessary; to apply consideration to a situation to avoid further damage or risk.
The beauty in love – space to grow – is in the offer to step aside in hopes of growth succeeding. Knowing full well everything may change, and we no longer matter.
Trust is felt, and when it isn’t given in return, we sense the void – feel the lack of – quite like someone’s arms length we clung to for years knowing we shouldn’t.
Love is the color of amber, to me, quite like every color squeezing in together, without erasing one for another in hopes of a happy ending.
Just Right
I watched the sun set tonight. She is such a beauty sliding behind the cedars.
Favorite game – hide and seek.
Her curve seems to hug “just right”around the tips, and well, I guess I’ve always thought so…
A small smile turned up around my cheeks, a flushing of pink appeared,
and then I thanked her for rising this morning.
As if to wink, she paused and then moved on, as one should, I suppose.
Healing
Our compassion comes from a place of empathy,
or at least it should.
Who are we if we don’t wish the very best for someone?
Trials greet us when we’re not looking, sinking us into new depths.
Gratitude overwhelms the healing pieces of us, and it is there we should bow.
Humbled.
Nature nurtures, realize this at the very least, smile and allow the comfort as it exhales its release.
Sense of Direction
The summer rain has painted fields of sunflowers
and the August breeze cools the brow.
67 degrees in the Sandhills, and nobody can explain how.
Wheat with a sense of adventure has been brushed in for effect,
and life gets interesting
just beyond the hills,
as I hear, “You haven’t been over there yet.”
Push past the state line, skys bluer than azure await,
there’s small horse towns ’bout every 8 miles,
and remember, “When you leave, shut the gate.”
Fuel isn’t getting any cheaper, and time waits for no one,
so dismiss all the reasons why one shouldn’t,
smell the damp dirt, allow it to slide through your fingers, let the wind send it.
Press the pedal on the right, bite your lip, and
appreciate the sound of your giggle,
the prairie weaves over and under –
everything beyond here matters,
and you’re not getting any younger.
Govern
the source:
reason for one’s distraction
out here beyond the familiar, I escape.
ponder what it must be like
to go and wander,
past where bridges lie, and
to a place my feet welcome;
a path unrecognizable to my soul.
my mind allowed freedom
as I see myself pushing back against a warm summer breeze.
nightfall is yet to be seen, yet the week is already before me.
stillness becomes evident, while the sky slowly burns across Midwestern hues.
I sense maybe you’re listening, so
I offer this plea –
challenge me, but don’t leave.
Aureole
occult in gilded lace,
her aureole exposed
petals purely contoured
if she were able, a pinwheel she would become
for you
imagine her delicate,
perfected in verdant wearing peaches and cream,
with a promising aura
The Climb
despite what looms around her,
the past
the expectations
the privilege
the power
the beauty
the silence
she chooses to try.
she begins at the bottom,
alone – yet, her
confidence is exposed as petals stretch.
amethyst her signature,
and starlet her pose,
the climbing inevitable, but
she’s worth it,
and you know.
Yours, Audrey
Room
heard and its appreciated
regardless of distance
creation begins with ends
sight isnt always known
again, seems defeating, but beauty gains power, seen and listened to
graciously so
nature heals as do words
patience allowed
creates soft places
where new truly grows
St. Patty’s Day
When you suddenly realize you may, in fact, be related to leprechauns….
verdant the color
destiny ravishingly sought
astonish them all
Enjoy your weekend!
~Aud
Worth It?
a vision to enjoy,
breathe
rustic and pristine.
with an ounce of curiosity
I dream,
what stories are held within-
is this beauty, as she stands,
left for the taking,
or is someone keeping watch?
left to her own devises,
her strength must continue, remain hopeful in winter.
alone amongst the blanket of snow, she screams forlorn,
however you see her and she remains yours.
might she be worth the risk?
Attachment
hardened by what he’d seen; by life,
the reflection behind his eyes created a flutter within me
like a bee for honey, I was willing to work and eager.
I remained close.
Structured and protective, with experience as his guide, I longed for his reverence.
his strength I devoured silently but wanted to wrap myself in for all to see.
like many, I wasn’t chosen.
life is a mystery and voices often confused, so I remained hopeful – just in case.
yet the determination in his heart is wide, and he has much to attend to
and so it goes.
Ardently Golden
Winter waves hello
as Autumn nods goodbye,
life is complicated
causing us to ardently ponder who am I.
Earth is round and life is ever after,
but questions often birth discrepancy,
so a refresh is in order,
dormant becomes necessity.
Memories are mounting
and wistful becomes normal,
up ahead are life moments to cherish,
yet this golden causes pause over what nature has nourished.
Lips bring a smile to life – awaken
as the sun begins to set,
twilight, a comforting picture,
and this prairie points West.
Persuasion
glows does the moon
beyond the branches, which held verdant prisms of summertime,
rich with thoughts of what could be come daylight.
a star just to the north points towards a path I’m unsure of
but regrettably stare into,
the cold air touches the tears I shed for the prayers I’ve said,
nothing makes sense as the fairytale ends.
night, oh night, you shout at me so,
what shall come of my young soul; trapped in a body at the peak of her age
clouds bustle by, such hurry
I ponder what awaits
just past the horizon of a foolish wish, held back by this garden gate.
Conscience Presently
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.
Call Her, Twilight
explosive tones embrace our evening sky – breathless
twilight reaching out,
“wait for me, just one more thought!”
a vision of desperation
but far too beautiful for anyone to say
no, thank you.
If You’ll Allow It
You can hear the sound of this machine working
– you know you can –
if you’re as old as me,
and grew up in a small Midwestern town,
she was an occasional reality.
We heard about newfangled ways of serving others,
but what we had was good enough.
We understood how to fix her, simple trial and error,
no fuss or awkward searching – some days a little pat on the bottom, or the sweet whisper of, “come on baby” and she’d spring to life.
I smile because she was a dinosaur in the 80s,
yet we were proud.
Seems there is still plenty of good happening right here,
if you’ll allow it.
Red
summertime is what I see
old barn needs some red,
some foolish Gen Z said
my response, “wanna bet!”
leave her alone she’s good as she sits,
what a glorious storytime tone this shade of red is.
Oldest Daughter & Red Headed Sister 