harim and mayim speak

The mountains welcomed me, “You’re back!” and promised me they’d have my back, should some Great water way — or two — recede, retreat, or otherwise act as cowards for too, too long.

Oh, harim, how they cried to me, spoke truth to me, “Here’s Jenny, an ally to thee.” At once the Sun shone once again, as I embraced my Westward friend.

Her shores were rocky, her waters cold. But I, at midpoint, felt less old — and trampled — then. And my ears acquiesced.

For t-w-e-n-t-y years before, life’s fog obscured Jenny’s lore. She sang it then, she sang it now: “Courageous woman, to the path you’ve chosen, the mountains bow.”

Super, and Care-Full With Your Pen, Mannerisms, and Metaphor

Sonny, (I can call you that because I’ve grey and am much older than you)
You don’t look like a man who’dve (proper grammar? I surely don’t care)
Said what you said (but you said it, and it stole my heart)
In Chapter 25 (chapter twenty-five., to be precise)
Or even a man who’dve been able to “focus” this long (though you lay claim to seeing its virtue, so I’ll believe you)
Given the amount of time (I’ve spent more than my fair share of it and secretly believe it’s ubiquitous)
And number of exhalations I know (I know) it took away
From your habitual daydreaming (I’ve a penchant for it, too)
I could (sadly, I will) continue sharing unrequited love-jabs here
But it’s late and the (glorious, but damned) mosquitoes have made their entrance
So I laugh (always — most often at myself), and tuck your bookmark (thanks) in my bra strap (ha) instead of your book (your book, bravo) and go inside for the night (and, how dare you quote Whitman?!)
Goodnight (goodnight)

Hope Automatic

I wish you away
The Valentine’s Day
50 pounding headaches ago

Sanely spoke
Tread purposefully
Smiled, generally

Hope was automatic
The mirror and I, friends
I walked free of you then

Spring forward to Saturday
This happy day
Rearview mirrors ripped away
Now comes Springtime