blaze

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I am to go deep with you
Some say I have
Some ask what for
I know there’s no secret You
No obscure path
No hide and seek
I, Earthbound, in need of you
You, Smith…I, rod
You, Shield…I, scout

Impart

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Give me, gift me your assignment now that you are gone, for I was to each day greet your wrinkles, your papers: My touch, the unsugar-coated ink atop your laugh lines, your copy lines…my voice, an unedited reporting of your happiness, your joy.

High Point

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I swear the squirrel
Said make no sound
And followed her own advice

Having the choice
Of shade or sun
Opted for lowly and nice

Still she travelled
Efficiently
And got where she hoped to be

I own peanuts
I’ll share with her
Since she shares wisdom with me

Withering Smile

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Once the hydrangeas have decided, there is no turning back. They bloom just for you. Intentionally. Enough sweltering days strung one-after-another makes them crazy enough to believe.

And delusional. They let you walk ever-so-near. They don’t see you’ve a gardener’s shears behind your back. And your intention…to display them on your basement table.

Wing

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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.

Generalized

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In the green, green grass

Where we all wish to be

A smiling, warm shoulder

Honest and timeless

The snare of sin

And proper loneliness thereafter

Wait. That’s just me