Star Soul

Star shine drips from the night sky and runs along the naked winter tree branches like syrup

Leaving iridescent trails of silver to wrap around the rough barked trunks.

The sliver shine lights my way

As it spills star souls on the forest floor and

While I follow the star trails, eons pass in an instant and eternity sleeps

In the soft warm glow of acceptance and starlight.

The cold surrounds my soul and heart in these winter depths but the

Dense air adds clarity to my vision as I walk the trails of stars.

They take me to a different place, a place at once new and ancient,

A place to observe all in silence while cloaked in the winter wood.

I see mosses hold their breath in the glow of the star-flow and hear them whispering their secrets to a silent waiting cosmos while holding tightly to the trunks of the trees.

Late geese fly across the moon, their cries urgent in the night sky

Confused by the uncommon shimmering silver ground below.

I am not alone in this realm of silver winter as

The forest is full of the souls and spirits of summer’s love.

I feel them all around me, darting in and out of tree shadows,

Stopping to watch me from behind drifts of truth and light.

The discarded autumn leaves warm the soil beneath the drifts

And life waits in patient stillness.

My mind becomes as still as the waiting life as I travel the empty space between the stars reflected in the snow’s white depth.

There is no urgency in me or in this place

Only the beauty and silence of peace and star light.

The winter forest is a secret,

A complete world in and of itself hiding in plain sight.

Its silence a decoy to protect its love lying safe and secure underground.

Go to the forest; breathe in the silent dripping starshine,

Follow the starlight as it traces the outline your soul.

Blend with the magic of the forest as

It is only there under the canopy of eternity that you can become as silent and still

As the dense crisp air surrounding you and once again, as in the beginning,

Go home to that place within that holds you in the soft silver glow of now and

Within that silent place returns you to wholeness.

The soul of the winter forest knows and understands you.

She is waiting for your return.

Soft Sadness (April 2015/with edits)

The silence of midnight is

The silence of wanting.

It is dark and lonely. 

A time soft with sadness

Until the memories sneak back in

and bring with them a scent, or a look

And it is almost enough, almost

But not quite.

 I know I will long for that touch

That voice, that look,

Until once again he comes back and turns the silence of longing

Into loving.

A time when my sorrow will be erased by his touch,

His hand in mine and

His kiss will fill my sole like

A light in the darkness.

Yet again…

Still,

I know, as I have all along that 

The darkness will return and

He will never be mine to keep.

Loneliness at Dusk (re-post from 2015)

He is still here at times, but in body only

His soul has left me.

I miss him most at dusk, 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 early evening,

A feeling more than a time wherein.

We were love and completeness.

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

The sun’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

Covering 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.

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 the pain of knowing that after all the sincerity in the darkness,

It was just a lie and my love would never be returned.

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

Struggling to survive in a lonely bed at dusk.

No Longer Enough

At least this one was amusing.

Inappropriate at times, but amusing.

With no history or back story,

Just comical antics and surface details.

A few weeks with no consistency; he came and went,

Tried to pick up where he left off as if no time has passed.

Apparently, he started something he couldn’t finish.

Maybe he never intended to.

But his intentions are of no consequence to me now as

I have taken a step up.

The rules are not the same for this new one,

My old rules no longer apply.

My standards are higher now, they are as elevated as I am.

But In spite of this most recent mistake, I refuse to give up.

My heart still longs for that one touch, that one look, the right one,

The one my heart waits for.

It is all I need, all I want, and so simple but so hard to find.

So, this one can fade back into nowhere from where he came as

Amusement is fun but shallow and

Most definitely no longer enough for me.

A Perfect Autumn Afternoon

The cottage windows were frosted at daybreak and with the cold morning sunlight,

My skylight became a witness to a shower of golden leaves falling on the roof.

A gentle creaking and crackling came from the wood stove as

The flames warmed it and me from within.

Baked beans simmered in the oven for hours

And filled my house with delicious aromas.

Now, as the afternoon shadows grow longer, I am warm and toasty in my robe

With a half-knitted sweater on my lap while

All around me is softness, warmth and peace.

A perfect Autumn afternoon.

Passions

I know that I love what I love.

My passions are many.

The sound of thunder ignites my soul.

The scent of simmering soup warms my heart.

My passion overflows for clear glass bowls and jars,

Shelves full of home-grown goodness,

Baby smiles and sighs,

Forest trees and critters,

Gardens full of life and love,

Friends and family,

Krishna’s promise of another day of light and joy and

My lover’s heartbeat at midnight.

My passions consume my heart and fill my soul and body

Leaving no room for sadness and negative thoughts as

I have no passion left for them.

Like Me

New friends.

We are so much the same,

Yet so different.

Is his smile a window to his thoughts?

Or a decoy for his sadness.

Are his jokes a sign of a lighthearted man?

Or a disguise covering something darker.

His story is like so many others,

Full of disappointments and fear, sadness and hurt.

Much like mine.

We are so much the same,

Yet so different.

We engage in small talk to lay a foundation,

Our lighthearted joking starts a deeper conversation.

But is it too soon, too raw, too scary?

There seems to be so much more to know about each other,

But, really, is that knowledge even necessary?

We appear to be so much the same, yet still feel so different.

Some of my stories are outdated and need to be let go and left behind.

They are no longer relevant,

No longer important to new friends,

Who, I have just come to realize,

Are so much more like me than we are different.

 

 

Between Seasons

The forest is different now,

Everything has changed.

The sky’s blue is colder,

The north wind is stronger, and

The trees’ summer green has faded.

Their leaves, lighter green now, are studded with hints of red and gold, brown and yellow.

My garden plants are lying over

As if to say “enough”.

They are entitled, they have given me all they can.

But nasturtiums, marigolds and impatients are troopers and refuse to let go.

They will stay strong until the frost’s icy fingers drag them down to rejoin the earth and sleep.

Summer’ song birds have long since flown away, and in their absence

All I hear are the crickets and the crows.

Autumn evenings are chilly and quiet, the silence broken by the occasional lonely bark of a fox and the haunting calls of the owls.

Heavy wind chimes hanging in my forest have been silent all summer but

Now sing with the strength of autumn winds while thistle down floats by in layers of life to be.

This season between the seasons is one of slow change but with an inevitable end.

There is no turning back, no chance to stay and nowhere else to go.

But in spite of this certainty, there is no turmoil, no angst or resistance among the trees and flowers for they know

This is how it should be, how it must be,

How it has always been.

One season losing its grip and

Sliding gently into the next.