Wing

It is enough for me, the breeze today. To let it waft over me, and with it, bring a strength.

Beauty and curiosity, like a bleached-comb Cardinal, often ride on such air. This morning, though, wisdom arrived.

This morning, the wind asked for my resolve: A halt to crying over others’ big promises and small feet. The stop to the bruises I allow.

A decision that I am enough. The God who created me said so.

This weekend, a storm of understanding is predicted. An Eastern Bluebird cannot be far behind.

The museum day

The depths of the seas
The blessings besides
The all we ought know
The denial of
The streets of the old world
The electric pathways of the new
The prehistoric exaggeration
The twilight of humanity
The noise within
The danger without
The nonsensical breakfast
The nonexistent dinner
The this was too much
The please I need more

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Our Out

Out of that closet
Who knew would come

Walkin’ shoes
Dancin’ shoes
Finest shoes, Country shoes

Shoes proving years of effort
Whilst acquiring
Coverings intended to serve as coats

Business coats
Helping coats
Fancy coats, Tattered coats

Coats that don’t fit anymore
But should
And shall, once we put on our shoes

We’ll learn as we come
Out of that closet

Stricken

Dead in the water
Dead
Yet still flailing 
As the body will 
Grasping at the sea’s weeds
And the pretend hope that floats past
From above and below
I’m left knowing 
To praise and to damn the child I was 

Failing

The cut has come on strong as I am strong
The red flows more fast than I am fast
The inhale cannot pace with the exhale
The color fades too far into the pale 
The heart don’t yet know what it ought know

Heart LoreĀ 

Which are the important words
The ones we want made clear
Whose sentiment we underscore
Whose truths we need to hear

It’s key that they not remain words
But values we live out
Let us let them color us 
And show what we’re about

Watching Them

Red-blooded bird
Black mask stealing
Her olive heart

Full speed ahead
Swift wings chasing
Strong wings

Her tangerine mouth
Mocks that lovely feathered cone
Atop that busy head

She forages below
What does she know
He thinks

Flame

 Invite me to listen
To all you believe
I’ll sit proper 
Hoping to hear, but knowing I won’t 
How what’s in your heart spilled out to the streets
We’ll toast to your voice and I’ll take my leave

Talk with me though
On all that you know
How you held the grey captive
Extending your hand -healed it 
I’ll ask you to speak slow, I’ll stay at your feet
My heart your tent of gold