Love and Leaf Luster
“Plant House”
book and coffee cup
dusty on a window sill
stillness of Autumn
hovers in mid air.
rainy day dark
but welcomed
leaky skylight leaves puddles
on the pebbled floor.
pots stacked quietly
leaning columns
an endless city.
seeds all stored in
“Scoop Away Clean” and
“Tidy Cat” buckets with
tight fitting lids.
old wine bottles and
colored glass vases
silently sing in the corner.
scissors and wire and trows
all dutifully rest along the
patchy counter top.
and a baby’s straw bonnet
dangles by a thread from
a grapevine wreath-
Handmade.
Ready for winter.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Meet Me”
To you I’m nothing more than
one of the infinite specks of light
ordinarily gleaming down.
Stuffed in a mass of my kind
I could never be noticed
even though my light might
blare a different shade of blue.
Every now and then a pair of eyes
sift through me but soon
move on as millions
scream for attention.
They overpower my essence-
dim my shine.
If “soulshine is stronger than moonshine”
maybe I should swallow a cup of rain and let it
drip into a sea where you may swim
and maybe then, you’ll feel me.
I am here.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Homemade”
The day before I left
tears streamed down onto my
hands folding the last of your clothes.
I lost my breath.
I lost my appetite.
And there you remained, at work
until Noon.
Home for lunch and back out again.
Home late…
Homemade lemonade
in your glass.
Hot meal in your Homemade bowl.
Hot shower in your clean bathroom-
Lay down in my bed
I sob to sleep, our last night.
You’re tired from work
You fall to sleep, our last night.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Out of Hiding”
Fetal Position-
curled and rocking and
begging for choices to make sense.
Vein bulging in the center of my forehead
strands of dark hair turn
silver over night
and others find the shower drain,
drowning my ankles.
Bare Matress-
sheets packed and still soiled
my cheeks are sensitive
to the rough fabric
as they scrape against it like
the trashing of a fussing
toddler.
Filed under Simple Pleasures | Comment (0)Leave a Reply