Love and Leaf Luster

October 1st, 2010

“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.


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