in air . . Day # 28

A cardinal sings  . .
and
in
that
gossamer opal
space . .
between that bird and this  . .
lies
soft forgiveness
trust
and
love's incalculable worth

the density of April

somedays, legs dangle blue-bare over edges worn & tempting 
skin that looks parched of tenderness and youth 
not my own ....
bones broken
and 
breadcrumbed to the precipice 
with some wild half-remembered call to 
rest 
there .... legs dangle 
inadequacy tugs 
at
expectation & light 
the pull to slide off ....
slide 
off ......
surrender to the white weariness 
is
bitterroot magnetic .... 
tastes of 
lime 
and 
brick 
slide ..... 
arms stretched overhead to gods & birds 
slide .... 
the dust of days breezed & swept away by the rushing downward fact of gravity tested as the slide is remembered and that decision turned to whimsies regret 
eyes closed mason-jar-tight against impact 
lime and brick and air and falling 
lime and brick and air and falling 
eyes 
open 
to 
warmth 
and 
the 
feathered forgiveness of the sun 

of ten in the morning . . .

sweet beautiful boys on mercury's breath
golden-ice ricocheted against the walls of velvet & morning
branched red bird sings of blue
as
bones form of clay & sand
heart becomes wired with the sunlight of this day
this day …..
particled of poignant purpose 

Boreas

velvet-elvis parting
to the accompaniment of cellos & a north wind  . . .
feathered things roost amongst snow & cedar
as curly-willow-green begs for mercy
feel the rip of hours
feel the walls of isolation
and
regret no more
sorrow lies in the hollowed & hallowed places
sun will come
the binding forgiveness of fear will follow
sun
will
come  . . .

of a kind

The wounded and the grappling ones
Meet upon fields of scar tissue
Weary & recognizable
Our fractures form equations of perfection
Balanced in Aquarian algorithms
With holes burned in the fabric of our masks . . .
We twitch with a sensitivity to
the sun and the salt
Awareness numbed into compliance & assumption
Collective memories collide & are quieted by
the touch of a hand,
The twinkled depth of eyes sure & fired by
blood & snow
As one, we catch the beat of a thousand spring wings
Turning our truth up to the
blueness and the feathered gray
We catch the scent of earth & passion . . .and
Step closer to the knowing

All The Lonely People ...

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It is sometimes our stories of loneliness that make us feel distinct & solitary, yet these same stories unite us in understanding.

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Discover parts of yourself tucked inside ….

April 1st

what is relevant ?
... is the creaking sound this old wood floor makes as i walk across it in my stocking feet any less or more relevant than the song of the cardinal outside the bedroom window ?
the curled brown leaf on the porcelain berry vine trembles from lack of relevancy just as the shine of the sun trembles upon the book shelf.
Kipling stands next to Milne which is by St .Expurѐy ; is one better than the other ?
dust settles upon them all .
the dogs sleep in quiet irrelevance to this startling april blue sky and yet, the same april blue sky plays no role in any sorrow or loneliness  found under it's care.
the curly willow is turning green, relevant only to itself , irrelevant to the play of shadows across the yard and the before-mentioned sleeping dogs.
we punch & crawl, pacing ourselves thru the days fighting & striving for relevance.
to be noticed, to be heard, to matter, to be .
yet perhaps it is in the acceptance of insignificance that stillness & grace are revealed
and in letting go, true relevance is at last found.