slow writing beside a shaggy canine bundle
she jumped in my arms for love
asleep now, lola sighs
quiet in between, overcast
seventeen minutes past noon
cookies cool
i have ached for calm
drowsy hours
like this
boys earn gentle hushes
i could sleep
lola adjusts her small furry body
boredom, not mine
curls its whiny fingers
into silence
I have no remedy
for my son
a breath of patience, enough
child tiptoes beyond our creaky back door
an urgent search rewarded
treasure found
he sits cross legged and silent
skillfully maneuvering shadows
to tinny adventure melodies
serenity restored... ish
single syllable sentiments
love, blessed, life
solid matters, my opinion
details of a single moment
all disappear
in a walking meditation
one mile at a time
no beat holds me steady
the sun, a promise
carries my frame
accompanied by a fragile silence
a link to grace
i am neither free
nor branded
i am
a smiling whisper
holding to the cord
of faith
faith breathes flesh
onto a skeleton of dreams
a rope i cling to
moving near
nearer still
a vision held so long, longing
the moment i would
cross my legs before you
have time to see you... see you
O God! i am a child
frail, circled by fear
sensing magic
bold by design
pressing forward
as I must, for love
please God, guide me
gently she carves a path to hope
inhales deep
eyelids stretched over hazel moons
her arms reach
through endless blue
I was gonna feel sorry for myself, sorry as in pining for wants I must accept uncertainty about while I wait hopefully for the desired scenario to transpire. I decided to make deviled eggs instead. Water's boiling now.
I was gonna slump on the couch and pout, then I rotated laundry. I found myself skipping down the hallway, wicker basket on my hip, lively as new possibilities/puzzle pieces formed in my mind.
I was gonna stick out my bottom lip, stare at blue curtains and wish for God to hurry up and show us answers to recent questions I obsess over, but just for tonight, I ain't.
I added green olives to last night's left over salad. I marvel at their strangely wonderful flavor and little pimento ribbons hiding inside.
I brewed a fresh cup of hot decaf, poured in organic half & half, an odd combination with olives, but warm on a cold March night.
I hear the swish-swish-whir of technology cleaning my boys' clothes. I sip warm richness, organic, fair trade, shade grown, everything hip and humane. I await the first bite of a novice attempt at a country potluck favorite, those egg delights oddly named after a terrible figure with a pitch fork.
Tonight, what remains before I head off to bed, I'm gonna be alright... and well nourished.