Sandy-haired

I summoned you so hard
So in earnest
Sent out all my Super-she energy
With such sheer-will
With mountainous hope
Which always worked so well for me

But found only my own enlightenment

It can only be the powers that be
Felt fit to see
You find yourself
Crawling
And not
Mountain climbing

Sandy-haired, please find yourself

As I Stand Today

Ode to the she-stranger, whom I never met

Yesterday, upon my knees

“Respiras,” my aura begged her

Then quietly and years ago, she-stranger did oblige

As if she wore my atoms, said for only me to hear

“You lucky, lucky girl´┐╝.”

Original Thought Credit: Marty McConnell’s “FRIDA KAHLO TO MARTY McCONNELL”

In the Echinacea

A Cardinal, spying from the pow’r lines by my kitchen window, acts tempestuously

As if he cannot resist me

Truth be told, I’m fond of him, too

Remarkable as he is — less a vivid red than most, and volume missing in the tufts of his shaggy cone

I know the migration he’s been through, and he needs that

Unafraid to ask, I say, “What is it you want?”

His response…be still, my heart!

I won’t betray his confidence, but we see eye-to-eye

It’s the reason he finds himself landing in my backyard peach tree at every possible opportunity

Poking around in the Echinacea, for calm

Glad I give him refuge, I leave open the door

Talking with him like this, leaves me wanting more

Sunday Arrival

I left my lover girl, that busty girl, in Some Grand Place

Got on a plane and just left her there

Smiling, she, chasing me
A happy fool, out of breath, certain she’d succeed eventually

Waiting came, then
Watching

Her eyes half covered, like we were playing hide and seek and it was getting dark

Peeking

She didn’t want to lose me in the misty twilight

She didn’t lose me in the misty twilight

She didn’t lose me

She didn’t

Elevated

Not taking no for an answer, She
Dressed up sexy for the crimes of He

Master-mechanic motivating, She
A fine-tuned engine emerges, He

Speaking in the same tongue, You & Me
Ascend from sorrow’s basement, We

She

The sliver of time before I became tragic
Was it a wicked serpent’s word
Some desired autonomy
This devotion to husband and child?

Think with me honestly
What of heart’s protracted pain
Is my sweet apple affinity
My downfall?