There, there

Why are we so
afraid of what is underneath the anticipation
of a tear
or the welling up of feelings
long gone
There, there I say to all

WPC: Rise/Set

Tree silhouettes tip toeing
to the skies while the quietness envelopes
the wilderness once more
no brilliant hues needed

to get to the point the day this day
is coming to an end
where you may find
yourself connecting the dots to the hours

Peace

There is a stillness that I long
for ache for ever look for
in every view

Healing Tears

A quiet smile a warm forgiving heart
secure arms her hugs are like warm bread just out of the oven
her attention always casting
on where her presence is most important she puts one foot
in front of the other

Faulted

It isn’t often we can stand
directly on the line where what is and what was
are on either side, a whole day
of acceptance in speaking in the past tense
while eagerly throwing thoughtful wishes

Of the future to all
when we come into contact with this day
before the next year begins
where we sift through
how we have lived a year

Messy

It is just that, messy the blur
anticipation whirling with brightness
overpowering the shadows of memories forgotten in the magic
of the season until until until they never really are gone
they linger

Cleansing

The quiet pouring of water
over the cliff simply float-falling cascading freely
soaring my boy is drawn
like a magnet to the waters opening
his mouth hoping to taste the abundant freshness
unaware his boots are filling

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

Day Break

Today I wake in the tree tops
learning to find my balance so high
above leaning against a redwood trunk finding
my breath sucked away

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