Twilight’s Bed

He is still here, but in body only

His soul has left me.

I miss him most at twilight time, when the day’s work has ended

And evenings past times have yet to begin.

Those times in our past when dinner was cooking in the kitchen and

Warm light filled the house.

When before dinner we would walk hand in hand through the

Gardens, across the fields to the edge of the wood

Where the songs of night

Drifted in from the forest and filled our senses.

The essences of twilight,

A feeling more than a time.

We were love and completeness,

He completed me as I completed him.

We would finish our dinner in the kitchen and

Take our wine to the porch and watch as

The last light faded from the landscape while

Twilight’s glow lingered in the treetops.

Evening deepened and the world stopped spinning.

All was calm, all was quiet. And when the hour was late,

We would climb the stairs together and

Sink into our inviting bed.

He always began by sliding his hands over my body as

An expression of his love.

I could feel the heart of his passion

Against my lips.

As his smoking soul ignited the

Fire in my heart,

We would come together in light and love.

The passion almost too much to take as

He whispered words of love and lust in

My ear and held my body and life together in his arms.

It was at those times that my soul threatened to spill out of my body

And wash away in the heat of the moment,

But his strength held it back

And covered it with his love, protecting me from myself.

And each time, as the lovemaking ended and his body

Lay hot and limp on mine,

I would look into his eyes and know,

Just know, that the world, our world, was as it should be.

And in that moment I had no darkness to fear, no sadness to run from

Could feel no distance between us in the night.

Instead, the darkness was comforting in its

Completeness, the totality of its effect sealed our fate each and every time.

But in spite of the lust, the passion and heat, in spite of

A love that felt as if it transcended time and space

There came a change, a change that for me meant an emptying of hopes, an end to dreams, and an acceptance that my love would never be returned.

And so it remains, a love, a hope and a dream held only by one

Struggling to survive in a lonely bed at twilight time.

My youngest daughter, Chelsea, wrote this poem for me for mother’s day. It is so lovley just had to share it.

Life

Branches stretch towards the sky,

The sun warms her sleepy children.

The wind whistles through the trees,

Tickling their newly leaved feathery fingers.

Seedlings drop to the unforgiving ground below,

The grass cradles the gift of life.

The clouds weep their happy tears,

A muddy blanket covers an anxious child.

Curious arms reach out of a safe warm bed,

While roots stretch ever deeper into the dark earth.

Spring Haiku (5)

 

Woods fill up with green

Light in the forest colored

Birds sing to the sun

 

 

 

True bird song fills me

Echoes like love in the trees

Hearts soar together

 

 

 

Warm soil holds the heart

Seedlings rise to the challenge

Warm rain washes clean

 

 

 

Thunder calls to me

Lightning flashes above me

Earth trembles beneath

 

 

 

Trees bud in new green

Windows hold trees as in frames

I wash the windows

Lace Curtains and Newborn Leaves

Through my lace curtains I see spring’s newborn leaves.

I listen to the robin’s song outside my window, and it takes me away, back to the past.

My past, a time that was filled with babies and hope,

New beginnings and the beauty of life and family.

Spring was a time of rebirth, a time to celebrate winters long awaited end and

Welcome the bright baby smiles and appreciate the dirty little handprints, everywhere!

A time of fresh air and sunshine, of growing my gardens and my babies.

Those precious little ones with tan lines around their diapers, dirty faces and shining, healthy eyes.

Love and laughter filled my yard

With the truth of place and isness.

And now the years have passed and

My little ones are gown with little ones of their own,

But the process stays the same and the cycle of seasons continues.

Another winter ends and another spring begins:

The soft, warm earth and gardens freshly tilled

Wait to be planted.

All is in flux, the grass greens overnight.

It has been a long time coming; winter was slow to release its grip,

But when the process begins, spring

Races to the finish, there is no time to waste!

A short season, an urgent explosion of

Light, warmth and beauty.

Flowery days and soft evening rains,

The perfect recipe for growth.

Seed packets clutter my house at planting time,

Filling it with the promise of life.

My jean’s pockets are overflowing with torn seed packet tops,

A shower of confetti on laundry day.

Springtime laundry is wonderful, I use the clothesline and watch the sheets and towels

Snap and wave in the fresh baby breezes,

The sun-dried laundry brings the scent of spring to my bed and body,

Soaking me in the beauty of spring’s essence.

As in the past, I am once again the sower of seeds,

But now the grandmother of the new little souls,

The ones with the bright smiles, dirty hands and faces,

And shining, healthy eyes!

The years fly by in a blur and the cycles of life continue.

The seasonal shifts are dependable in their completeness and predictability.

Spring always brings a new beginning, with promise, love and light, just as surely as the robin’s song continues to transport me back to a place, a time and a way of life I will forever cherish.

Expectations

I am learning, I am trying

That 10% is so hard to take, sometimes.

In the night of longing, of troubled soul

I was shown the truth, the why …

I have loved, but not in the way I should

I have loved what I wanted, not what was before me

So now I am trying, to love you as you are, and

Not who I want you to be.

I have no expectations (90% of the time)

There is love because there is, and not for what

I will get in return, but still

Some days I am sad, that 10% brings me down,

It turns me around, clouds my mind with questions

With doubts, mostly with fear

It yells in my head… where are you? why don’t you call? who are you with?

Have you forgotten me? why? why? why? So many fears…

It threatens to tear me apart, make me do stupid things, things I’ll regret,

But now at least I understand it more, I can taste the deceit it poisons me with

I can see it for what it is, another obstacle to overcome, one that

Blocks my way to true freedom and peace.

So I will keep trying, keep listening and truly hearing

I don’t want to lose again,

I don’t want to watch you walk away,

Because I have pushed you away, unable to stop myself.

I tell myself the 10% has to go, but then again, maybe it shouldn’t, maybe it serves a purpose.

A reminder to me of how poisonous that way of thinking is.

Be patient with me, my lover.  I know

The book and his words will work their magic and

That 10% will fade and go to a place in my heart

Where I can hold it as a reminder.  A reminder to insure that the poison will

Never become a threat to me and you and our place of warmth, passion

And train whistles

Twilight Blues

Twilight, just a time of day,

The time between.

A peaceful quiet,

Time of togetherness and comfort, the end of our day, well spent.

His hand in mine, we walk the dew kissed meadow and stroll the wood line

Our bodies hold the heat of the day and our hearts are refreshed by the cool evening air.

Echoing and haunting calls of the wood thrush sing us to the house.

The warm amber light of welcome shines from the kitchen windows,

A softness of love, a refuge for us, for our hearts.

The beginning of the night, to rest , loved, in each other’s arms until morning…

But what of now,

This alone and empty now.

He has gone and the thrush calls just empty sounds,

He has taken the bird’s song with him.

Twilight time has turned sad and lonely

The loneliest part of the day.

Wet and cold is the dew covering the grass.

I have forgotten to turn on the kitchen light, again.

As the darkness of another lonely night promises to settle around my soul, I sink to my knees at the edge of the wood, where the meadow meets the trees

And sob into my hands, the tears flow and soak the ground around

me like a bitter rain.

Bitterness at loss, sadness for myself that without him I can not feel

The sweetness of this life, how the days warmth lingers on my body,

Cannot see the love of the kitchen windows,

Or marvel at the thrushes call.

Now all is dark and lonely, I pull my sweater tight to warm the chill

And rush to the dark house.

I slam the door behind me, shut out the sadness and darkness,

Ban the loneliness, quell the tears and turn my back on twilights’ pain.

Without him it has lost its magic,

As I have lost mine.

Disapointments of the Past

I think disappointment is the worst,

worse than heart break.

you really think you know him

you can feel him, smell him

when he is nowhere near.

hear his voice in your head

feel his touch in your soul.

you really think you know him.

you believe it all.

others say beware, but you know better

after all, you are the one he loves, what do the others know.

It is all so comfortable, so right, so true,

Until it isn’t.

until you realize you have been made a fool of yet again.

I don’t know which hurts more

my disappointment in him or in me.

Want is no more…

I fear the well has gone dry,

the tears are used up,

they hold no more.

pain

is replace  with hope.

fulfillment is seen  in the distance, a waiting and wanting,

a dream, a hope, but no more.  It shifts with the sand.

the dunes dissolve and rise again in heart felt power,

the power of the winds of change, destroy and rebuild,

love destroys and rebuilds.

winds come and blow it away, hope rises and the tide builds it back again.

long suffering connections, lost in love,

drowned in hope, starved with affection.

fed on the shells, husks, real

sustenance  withheld and shifting like dunes

need sinks the ship and want can hold on no more.

Magic at Midnight

Midnight, the night is deep,

Darkness complete.

Time is right, magic is in the air.

A fog of silence and forgetfulness rolls in and settles between the trees.

They creak and groan as the soil around them releases its hold and

The forest floor itself moves and then rolls away, dissolving into the fog.

Exposed roots and life bask in the dankness of the new moon as

the night creatures rise to stare in wonder at the unfamiliar sky.

The remaining soil becomes transparent and the life below is revealed.

Beds of moss hold sleeping creatures and startled owls take flight.

Another world, one of roots and life,  rocks and tunnels

A world of soft, dark, warmth and welcome.

The very place where life began, the essence of creation,

where soil and water, life and earth mixed together to hold the seeds of the future planted there.

Planting the future, with God’s hand and love until

Daylight brings the magic to an end.

Soil solidifies and

The forest floor is rolled back into place.

The underground world breaths deep and is content once again

To remain hidden, and hold its secrets close.

Safe in its disguise, all is hidden.

Magic sleeps and the owls come home to rest.

All is quiet and held in secret silence

Until that strange scent of mystery is in the air

and the fog of new moon and magic reveal

the life and love of the hidden world.