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Poetry from my heart

Silver Smoke

Bright blue sky holds the

Silver gray smoke from the chimney.

 

Golden leaves fall in

Showers from the trees and

 

Dry brown leaves dance with each other in circles

On faded green grass.

 

I sit here alone, watching, smelling, seeing and smiling.

A gray squirrel chatters at me from the edge of the forest, what is he saying?

 

The day is getting late and my house now sits in the shadows.

With the sun in my face, I can barely make it out.

 

It’s as if it has blended back into the woods

From which it was made.

 

All that remains is the red chimney, the silver smoke

And the chatterind squirrel.

 

My place in all of this is erased, and unneeded, it will all carry on without me.

The petunias continue to climb over the iron rooster’s back in defiance of my will,

 

Or what they perceive to be my will.

 

I think I’ll go inside now and make more silver smoke.

 

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Nowhere To Move To

I start at the edge of the woods,

In the bright shiny green chair.

 

But the sun moves,

Its fast shadow cooling my feet and the legs.

 

Cool air rises to take the sun’s place,

Filling its shadow.

 

So I move, dragging my chair,

Holding my phone and Mary’s book.

 

I sit again, read a few pages, then the

The sun moves and again I drag my chair.

 

My spot I choose by the marigolds doesn’t last either and once again

I move.

 

This time to the red chair by the driveway.

My book and phone follow as I know they will.

 

And now, as I sit on the driveway in the red chair,

The sun’s shadow creeps ever closer to my feet and

 

I realize there is nowhere else to go, nowhere to move to,

Nowhere else to be, but it’s alright, an ending of sorts, I guess.

 

I can leave my chair here, empty, on the driveway,

No one will notice, no one will come to move it.

 

I am no longer in anyone’s way.

Harvest

Pumpkins roasting in the oven,

Canning jars full of summer bounty drying on the counter.

Carrots and beets are waiting in the cottage garden, waiting to be pulled and washed,

Blanched and put to rest in the freezer.

Summer’s tender fruits have come and gone.

Only the hardy and hardest of all remain.

The winter squash takes the place of its summer

Thin skinned cousins.

Hard beets, potatoes, and turnips

Wait to be dug and stored in the cellar.

Apples shine on the trees, enticing us to climb and gather.

Their red faces sparkle in the sun, begging to be picked and boxed.

So yet again, we preserve the jewels of summer to be cherished in the dead of winter,

They remind us of the taste of summer, when gardens are asleep and dreaming.

All the Light of a Million Suns

 

His hands are weightless

His smile, eternal.

 

His eyes hold all the stars in the universe,

All the light of a million suns.

 

His energy charges every cell in my body and

His love powers and drives my nightly dreams.

 

When he speaks to me, his words feel like a warm soft blanket

Draped  with love over my shoulders.

 

His voice comes to me in the silence of meditation telling me to stop,

To let it all go.

 

He tells me that good will only come to me

After I throw out and reject the darkness.

 

He watches in silence and sadness as

I try but fail over and over…

 

He knows he can’t do it for me.

I know I can’t do it for myself.

 

 

Love in Silence

It is a soft and gracious October evening.

The wood-stove’s warmth seeps into every nook and cranny,

Warming me from the floor up.

I step out of a hot shower after coating my body with

The silky texture and fragrance of rosemary/lavender goats’ milk soap.

I wrap myself in soft cotton towels and robe and

Settle into my favorite chair for an evening of creating.

While I write, the clouds evaporate over my house and

Star light shines in through the skylight over my head.

The clear skies bring cold frosty night air to fog and freeze my windows.

But the warmth holds tight inside while the cold air presses against my door.

On this October night the stove will win, the moths will shiver, the crickets will fall silent and

Falling leaves will crackle and dance in the biting wind.

While I, in my soft warmth, will think of you and write of love in silence.

An Introduction to Me

 

I have experienced an awakening into less,

An escape from more, and in such have found an introduction to me.

 

All else has faded away.  I now know that without my attention, it ceases to be.

I have observed its importance decrease as my peace has increased.

 

And now, now I check it all at the door as it is no longer needed,

As it no longer has any power over me.

 

And so the I am, the being that I am, the be all and end all, is still here as it was in the beginning.

Always the same, never to change, and always mine.

 

One Horrific Night

I sit, as if in a dream, in my warm, softly-lit, safe, living room.  Wood-stove fire crackles contentedly while on the TV screen, volume off, a scene of unspeakable horror at an outdoor country music concert is replayed.  It runs like a nightmare in the corner of my living room, showing me that all is not right in this secular world.

The scene plays over and over as if we need to be convinced of the horror people are capable of but in the midst of the carnage, heroes stand out, people saving people, people finding courage they never knew they had, to help strangers in a time of unnatural horror.  People on the streets, news reporters, first responders all look for any shred of human decency in a scene brought on by the damaged and painfully twisted mind of one man, one human soul, one of us…

This shooting is a symptom of a long held disease of our society, one that has been neglected and hidden for too long.  Serious mental health issues affect so many people but go unnoticed or ignored. We have to stop treating the symptoms and start treating the cause.

I am sad to think that this horror will happen again.  It only takes one person with one gun… one disturbed mind, one horrific night.

Truth and Freedom

It is within the stillness between my heart beats and

The silence between my breaths that I have found my truth and freedom.

It is subtle, unimposing, but

All-encompassing and the only truth there is.

It is the only truth that need be, and the only reality that is eternal.

The truth is evident in the radiance that shines from the sleeping faces of babies,

And the soft sunshine on a clear blue autumn day.

My heart and soul accept the divine gift that has been given to me and I know now,

Beyond a doubt, that my freedom is of me and from me and

Mine alone to believe.

Still Believing

She feels like an endangered species,

While she waits, still believing in love,

She hides beneath the ordinary

Remaining the one who is always overlooked.

The well of love she holds is full,

Free for giving, free to be taken, to be emptied with limitless refills.

Yet still she waits, wanting to hope, yet not daring to,

Trying hard not to expect, knowing it may never be.

Loving yet never loved,

Loving alone,

Yet still believing.

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