The energy is there, just beyond the curve,
Light Fancier: the artist
and Lady Bluet, eager to serve.
Azure, she breathes against the sky
as twilight begins,
a multitude of versions
showered within.
Function introduces beauty –
nature sets the scene,
progress settles nicely,
and she’s encouraged to dream.
when the call comes
time stands down
knees buckle
wind escapes the very breath I needed to speak.
a cry from within –
within me – it shocks,
shocks the very core of my being, a result
everyone warned me of feeling deep inside,
but then regret:
the regret of putting off
everything I should have said when it still mattered.
the searching begins
the desire for proof –
proof we existed together in this world
making the memories we shared valid,
meaningful and somehow important.
but then the awareness arrives,
becoming fully aware
eyes wide open,
there is nothing here to prove our connection;
my love.
lacking tangible evidence of a bond created out of a deep need to feel a part of something I lacked,
is the torture I, until today, didn’t realize I would be living with now forever.
. . . You know those days when you wake up to a mountain of snow in your yard, because – wind – , so you make coffee and you spend an hour and a half talking yourself up to a game of shoveling for an hour or more? Not minding the physical work really, but the wind is gonna cut hard this time causing the debate inside my head a heaviness. (Nebraska blizzards are the worst, yet I adore them.)
You put on a few layers of clothes, bemoaning how you look in a hat 😳, wishing you’d purchased taller boots for winter, and decide you are capable of doing anything so you march outside ready to take on the snow with your trusty shovel. The object that has seen you through six consecutive winters in Nebraska since the last one broke and never failed.
The two of you dance about the sidewalk and around the car, being mindful of the fact you accidently mule kicked your jeans off last night in the dark and broke your pinky toe on your dresser so it already feels crammed into thick socks and tight boots as it is… so go easy, Aud.
Never mind your nose is dripping, ears are frozen because your hat is too short and your hazel eyes are watering due to refusing the scarf, as it’s too bulky and makes ya sweat anyway, and life feels hard but you’re making it work so ya laugh to say, “Cheers on you life,” and finish strong. Taking time to laugh at yourself every time you toss the snow against the wind and it attacks right back. This girl will never learn.
Grateful to be done with round one as you stomp back inside, after shoveling a path in the grass, as well, so ya can get to the car parked out back, with wet gloves, snow on top of the worthless hat you knitted as a first knitted object ever and you wanna fit into it.
However you were born with a big head and curly hair so hats don’t look right, then ya kick off the shorty expensive snow boots you were just sure would be so cute with jeans when you’re out and about at Christmas time and the sense of regret settles in.
See, you’re kinda cussing them because they kept your feet warm – good – yet you can’t feel your wet frozen ankles – bad. Side eye yourself realizing nobody cares because you’re the only one here now, so ya stop talking.
Wander a bit around the house as your glasses de-fog and ponder where you put your furry slippers when you first started this project nearly four hours ago and suddenly realize . . .
You didn’t pour one cup of coffee from the coffee pot and now it’s cold. AND so are you.
I can’t decide how I feel about myself now.
Love my life.
. . . wandering away now towards the microwave cold cup in hand
looking through branches
catching this sherbet sunset through different views,
mighty is a fortress angled amongst dipping hallows as they weave groove.
the branches brittle, yet hold quite an aubergine scene
there’s peach, pinks, and yellows, look, there’s even soft lavender too.
they seem to be dancing, oh my, on soft feminine slopes, now listen: giggling dancing hues want to be noticed.
a hush of snow takes on some gray, but
doesn’t Winter,
as she holds steady against warm days,
generally fade this way?
focused amongst darkness,
blind to a last chance and determined to count regrets.
cherish, even the ending, with the promise to never forget,
light sparks as it is extinguished
and her heart flutters, yes.
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?
dreams surround a homesteading such as this,
no amount of work could persuade them to leave.
his heart was given so long ago, and the farm has held on ever since.
the birds sang quite rightly the day she pulled in,
the tire was giving her fits.
when he took his cap off and extended his hand,
his eyes caused hers to lift, amused by the pink shade of shy she wore with her smile, he let off on his farmer’s tight grip.
hard became harder as sunsets created do-overs, and laughter filled the crisp winter air.
facts remained, but pleasure pursued as two strangers became one another,
encouraging life to come tumbling after.
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.
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.
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.
with a harvest so plentiful,
why is there no joy
with billows of copper creams within the sky,
why do I fear tomorrow
with air as crisp as heirloom apples,
why isn’t laughter around us
with Autumn expressing herself just so,
why am I alone
with a voice shaking towards the bluest of sky,
why, oh why, can’t I fly.
not one star in the sky tonight
tho’ we rarely speak of them
’tis mostly children, cars and simpler times
in their own right, they all shine
cardinals a symbol of what we mean to me
what will come of thee
verdant grass continues
will it even matter now
darkness looms beyond the street
allow shadows to envelope completely
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.
I miss the days of lost in cerulean and clouds,
even though searching for you came with a cost,
my mind ardently invented you as I lie on the ground.
moments screamed past me then, and there’s no getting them back,
yet I feel fulfilled when memories rush in,
blessed, some would say to forget what I lacked.
a path was forged, one I so desperately needed,
the voice inside me tasted like screaming –
to most it wouldn’t make sense but free, my friend, isn’t always freedom.
If sunsets are passion, run don’t wait.
Tug on shirt tails and grip with both hands – love straight away.
Why wait!
Beauty fades but laughter, love and devotion will always remain.
crucial some would say
the space between then and now
fluctuates between right
and wrong, expected
obviously.
looking back – foolish,
forward eventually becomes – available.
we possess forward.
when shared,
is it ever really your own?
what is time without a watchful eye,
til color fades, we mustn’t
gray tones allow hope
say it is so, dear one.
how is it my hands feel the road and its bumps,
while tires roll atop –
proof we’ve been here before
and what a journey it was.
clouds become pillows,
for murmurs under the sheets,
and the rain in the distance
a melody I remember and
cherish, please believe.
today is full of beauty, I smirk
yet again.
passionate in the ordinary I shall remain,
and glimpses of tomorrows
shall nudge me forward,
across the plains.
in sunlit arching
rays warming stretched limbs
begging for a place
as our sun sets I reach for you
a hint please, if even this exists.
why would I question
your strength surrounds me
the wind becomes your touch
the geese flying behind me
speak the words I long to hear
yet, in a language
I cannot understand.
my eyes settle on tangerine hues
as my world settles in
for the night.
I sigh good evening, my love,
where have you been and where shall we go?
Oldest Daughter & Red Headed Sister 