becoming beloved
to the budding crocus cup filled with
the dry snow of March
awash in the softness of morning
those sherbet linen garments attract the light
arms wrapped to self to hold tight the stars
bursting
with the recall of better days
what is a better day than this ordinary magic that lies in the dust
of sunlight and prairie winds
air that smells of wakening green
tongues held against licorice & peppermint tea
steeped at a quarter to seven
pain eased by posture & purpose
today is always the better day
this heart cracks wide for the rush of sorrow binding
cherish the steps my beloved
abundance lies here within this breath
tick-tocking
becoming
beloved
to the budding crocus cup filled with
the dry snow of March
awash in the softness of morning
those sherbet linen garments attract the light
arms wrapped to self to hold tight the stars
bursting
with the recall of better days
what is a better day than this ordinary magic that lies in the dust
of sunlight and prairie winds
air that smells of wakening green
tongues held against licorice & peppermint tea
steeped at a quarter to seven
pain eased by posture & purpose
today is always the better day
this heart cracks wide for the rush of sorrow binding
cherish the steps my beloved
abundance lies here within this breath
tick-tocking
becoming
beloved
