An island of green encrusted in jewels
illuminated by the light of oncoming traffic
globes of dandelion fluff sparkling
in the beams undercutting the night mist
a field of glittering diamonds
nothing but a mess of a nuisance by day
Tag Archives: poem
The Ghost of Winter
The ghost of winter,
a puff of breath
whisking swirls of snow
off the branches and into the air
suspended
a last gasp of cold crystals
the pine boughs flash frozen for a moment
and then it’s gone,
green grass poking through the raised mounds of snow
pushed upwards
by the fledgling growth of spring
a delicate dance
threatening
but gone in the blink of an eye
blackhillsfox.com
Looking for Signs of Life
A brown curled claw
skittering along the ground
Singular movement amidst
the frozen expanse of pavement
Only when you get close enough to see the fingers,
knuckles scraping the rocky surface,
can you distinguish the knobs of an oak leaf,
stem protruding like a tail
Propelled by the wind
a legion of birds wrapped in wing
a chipmunk
a squirrel,
a lizard scampering by
All alive according to the eye
But in this cold raw place between snow and spring
dry, brittle leaves are all that dance
born on the rhythm of weather patterns and wishful thinking
Whirling Dervish
Hands shaking, limbs twitching, cells, veins vibrating, blood boiling.
Breath ragged, tears prickling, sobs wracking.
The physical shell spins
The mind reels
Emotions swarm and swamp
Even the calm between the swells a sad, dead place.
There is no taking a bow.
The dance is never over.
The dervish whirls and twirls herself into a tizzy.
from Abundance Created Together
Self-Care: A Cautionary Tale
I didn’t eat breakfast.
I drank caffeine.
I didn’t take my meds.
I stared at the computer screen all day.
I reread a beautiful, but sad book.
I cried hand-clamping tears.
I had a late lunch.
I didn’t get dressed until 4 PM.
I fought with my husband.
I looked things up online by only the light of my phone.
I went to bed too late.
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I awoke at 5:45 to the crash of thunder,
the wind whirling,
the rain pummeling.
Mother Nature matching my disconcertment.
Trees torn from their roots,
leaves littering the ground –
a mess of downed limbs and debris.
But soon the sun is shining,
the water a glaze of calm.
Jennifer Butler Basile
Still, my head is in a vice.
My stomach churns.
There is much recovery to be done.
Knots
Why do we not let ourselves be held?
Are we afraid of the fallout?
Of the softening
that occurs with the slightest
of pressure on the hard outer shell
Cracking the protection
we have absurdly built up
Thinking we can fool
the shadows that lurk
just out of sight
A touch, a push, a gentle squeeze
and it all comes rushing to the surface
Releasing the tension
that does nothing but tie us up
Grace
The bounce in the step
the joy bubbling up and over
through words, demeanor, joie de vivre
The hearty laugh
blossoming at the core, rolling out in waves
infectious, contagious, sanctifying – us
The conscious breath
undulating and growing with each notice
the physical embodiment of our existence
It fills us –
if we watch for it
if we train our eyes with a gentle gaze
if we open our heart to the gifts around us
It imbues us with a calming peace
and a loving embrace
We can all glide through life with a little grace
A Few of My Favorite Things
When a knit stitch pulls through smoothly, with satisfaction
The strength of a bond pulled taut, in spite of the miles
Connection
Certainty
Sun on your face
A wind rushing through the trees,
upturned eyes searching for a brief blot of the sun,
finding an osprey soaring high above
An upsurge of soul,
a welling of emotion
Fleeting, yet profound
We must seek these moments for all they are worth.
Chopping Potatoes 