Mothering

Giving Thanks

Here I sit far
from the family I grew up with
and thinking of my dad
who is spread between us I am sure, I remember (more…)

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The Waiting Room

Collected colors dreams still
holding on the words not yet ready
to send their messages on memories
the days finding their resting place, shallow breaths
waiting for more inhales
before tending to the inside

For to some this space may feel
or look
clogged undone untidy unmanageable out-of-control
but to me it is the waiting room
the holding place where if I am careful enough
I won’t lose any of its
wildly lived perfect truth and meaning

Something Greater

The hum
of a vision, effort
woven into a work of art
dew weighting down the tiniest of tendrils
one strand on its own, only a line
easily torn
but in time and with great effort and care
each well placed line becomes something greater
when strung together holding hands
holding on through the evening
chill and winds blowing from the north, testing
the strength of so much gathered between two grass lengths
grown tall from the summer sun
now holding up this web of detailed wondrous
intentional mesmerizing
daydream-starting
a masterpiece (more…)

Beauty’s Roar

The softest of peach flavored shades
can not quiet the roar
of the waves pounding the shore drumming
deeply where you feel it in your chest, I want

I just drop to my knees
into the sand making myself stop
in the face of this beautiful roar
enjoying the relentless going of another day (more…)

Inside Me

This morning as the rain begins
its relentless seasonal soaking of the ground
the warm bright light
is left to shine behind the thick lid of clouds

I notice myself shifting from looking
out the window
to looking inside myself
a shift as gentle as waking up (more…)

Within My Mind

I asked myself as I walked through my mind
keeping track of the path
over rocks roots divots and hoof prints who am I now
I can’t seem to shake

this questioning heart with few roots
and plenty of bruises from floating away and falling back down
where is that voice
that I couldn’t write down fast enough who felt (more…)

WPC- Waiting

Up with only a hint
of light we all spring from our sleeping bags
we made a pact the night before
we would be up before the sun
we grabbed warm hats the cook stove some tea
and cups and our bear canisters too
anxiously walking up above our camp
hoping to see the first rays not quite touching the peaks yet (more…)