Dictionary me
Plentiful of words
Heartfelt pronunciations
I’ll speak monosyllabic, if you’ll listen:
“I-loved-you”
You there on the hill
Webster’s Hill
Hardcover edition
I spoke King’s English
Plain English
All languages I knew
Prayed black-letter truths
Whisper-wished my marrow into you
What fateful stormy day
Opened you up
Revealed your empty pages
What phonetic wind
Took your hand from mountaintop
Carried you from me?
his harem and the hell of it
writing our hearts out
we
playing nice, polite, naïve
negligent, thus failing
sorrow shrouds our intrinsic prettiness
our intellect
O, Ego
His-n-Hers
God gave me this house
yellow, yes — at first glance
diffuse your gaze, step back and see
sentience walks these halls
juicy details of pain, love
striving, ceasing
success and victory
go or stay, either way
none of it’s yours to peruse
What do you do with the gifts I give you
The blue flags and the cardinal view? 
Do you heal, whilst you love
Do you leave legacy?
Do you fly
Do you let Me guide you?
What do you do with the Fall Equinox
The waned moon and the amber days too?
Do you stir, undeterred
Do you walk with purpose?
Do you rise
Do you see My True Hue?
I have a loved one who introduced me to Jesus when I was 19. Where would I be without that fact, I shudder to think. If you know and love and have faith in the God of the Bible, the Creator of the Universe, I’m asking…please pray for the person God put in my path all those years ago.
I often do a prayer-filled writing meditation where I sit down and without a goal, simply watch and listen to what God literally sets in front of me. Today it was all of these things:
•lavender from my garden
•my son’s school notebook and science book
•the blue prayer flags in my window
•a cardinal landing in the tree inches in front of my face
•golden tall grasses around the edge of my yard
And then, God asked me to ask all of us this: What do you *do*with it all?
Don’t slam shut the door
Do not creak it closed slowly
Midnight is not yet
his Math
I accepted then found
Theorems full of holes
Mechanical equating
Screws loose
Junk proofs on an old wood table
One Plus One Equals Yellow
Not legal, ever
In the Real World
While The Bee Gees sang
He loved me for a minute
Then he let me cry

Our chartreuse-colored love
The ugly chair now, that we don’t wish to sit in or admit brought comfort, respite
Nor will we throw it away
We mourn it in the kitchen like a death
Seemingly forever, while surrounded with casseroles of comfort food brought to us by well-meaning “friends”
We watch it as an epic film of someone else’s life
Sitting in the dark, screaming at the screen, warning of their err, fall from grace, then trauma
We escape it with our wanderlust-filled travels near and far
Photographing nature, plus wild wildlife who in-turn, chase us as we sleep, pseudo-nightmares that wake us at 3am
We do this
You, there, and me, here
Silk and brocade-covered hardwood frames we were and we are
Camaraderie and adventure that was to have brought us peace
Closure to the aching
What color was it initially, before the fade, we ask ourselves over and over
What we know for certain — it was an heirloom love
Before the spit up and sweaty workaday clothes soiled it
Before the pained animals in us tore it to shreds
Before our childhood loneliness, unresolved, relegated us to our corners in our fifties — upper lips bloodied, both of us
Walking attachment disorders, detached by default, from each other
All in one, single day
Eventually, we go to the curb with this shredded chartreuse thing
Pack up and move far away
Looking from the rear-view mirror at what was, we draw others’ ire as we drive too-slow down that road
It is always dusty Summer in our hearts’ mind’s eye
The days of danger finding me
Smack dab in the middle of my manifesting success
Freshly showered after having done all the inner-work
Looking like chemistry
Though, by definition, cannot be
True to your name, Trauma
Your electric days that bound us
Over
Sweet plum
Summer’s crown jewel
Ripened
Smiling, still
Though ghosted
Chipped away at
Hollowed out
Cut in two
Bitten off, but not spit out
For I remain
Saucy
Thus, your favorite fruit
“Be done leaving,” I’ve begged Time
Stop the silence
525600 minutes, almost now
Only just this morning
Done biding for unspoken goodbyes
I threw the clock out the door
Glass heart that it has
It’ll not show it’s square-jawed face
’round my gold again