Black White Light

Where is that storm I summoned
To keep me on my heels
From whom others retreat
As I instead advance

One with fierce energy
That will match intellects
Against all odds draw near
Whose heart I need not fear

Perch

Flowers
They’ve suffered at my hand
Frost
Did I discount them
Never
I, as would many others
Nurturers
Set them again in the sun
Believing
They would continue
Blooming

Picket Fences

The white-washed picket fence has blown open again, inviting the varying voices that be

An opportunity, this open door, this moment, and I stick my snowy-white foot in its way

Ajar it will stay, for I’m bolder today and my eyes see the truth ‘neath the paint chipped away

ColonialĀ 

A moment of balance
In muslin white and waiting for them
On the outside looking in
But content

It’s an odd hour

What have you to do anyway
Return home, to the heat
Don comfortable clothes
And be with the telly and takeout