doodling dresses….


When I was a little girl I spent hours doodling dresses.
I imagined their whispery feel,
soft and sweeping
in buttery cotton and linen,
lightly brushing  skin,
easy,
easy,
stepping  light and roomy,
bare legs and breath free
to flow and float and flutter,
in crisp simple lines of glad color
with me inside,
uncluttered.

Now I’m a woman grown and turning fifty
and I’m tired of trudging in trousers,
burden bearing down heavy on this frame
I once dreamed draped in dresses.

I want my heart to wear dresses again,
to feel the tug and twirl of breeze
swing me round light
with billowy lift  and swirl.

Oh sure,  I want to kneel down and dig,
to climb high and sculpt,
to plant and build and heft the load
….I love the feel of work when it matters,
but not until my knees groan hard with gristle and ache,
my heart pounds heavy from airless effort,
and graceless strain
….wasted,
like  apples left to rot in the yard.

I don’t want my heart to wear pants
to feel binding rigid heaviness
pressing tight on skin.
I want to remember,
please ,  my soul,  remember
the way of soft cotton dresses
and go there,
beat and breathe from that place
again.

My word for the year…..a picture  for my heart:  dresses


Sending love and bright hope for beautiful beginnings
to each of you!

stuffing stockings for you….

Stockings are my favorite.
I closed my eyes today and stuffed one for each of you,
my heart layering wishes and prayers
into bright quilted spiritsocks to send on Christmas breezes.

Down in the bottom,  like a big shiny apple,
I plunked a prayer that you’d hop quick and light through tangles
like a surefooted wren in underbrush,
never bogged down or boxed in.

Then I melted down the crayons
that would color you a victim,
scooped balls from the molten pools, 
then sculpted and dried into powerful pellets
for you to pitch at lies and sink them
like the accuser in a dunking booth.

I dropped in big belly laughs,  lush meadows,  quiet pools,
and plenty of light and space,
a string of exhuberant stars burning hopeful through the night
that you’re never alone,
and a Mary Oliver poem about another sunny morning
and the lucky person who is in it
(oh let that happy lark be you)

I tucked in Dickenson’s wish that your rambles be sweet,
your reveries spacious,
and some colorful feathers that whisper “you’re worthy of wings”

I draped a bouquet of flowers from the top
to gently croon that it’s safe to bloom
and a loveable Lionel….a sort of communication angel like his character in The King’s Speech
to coach out every bit of your voice that may still huddle stuck and shut down.

Into the nooks and crannies I tucked candles that flicker encouragement,
pretty little packages of savory sustenance
and teas for chasing chill and fatigue.
Then I scooped in a whole caboodle of newborn dreams;
they trickled down like skittles into every crevice,
and some truffles of precious time wrapped in glittering foil
in strong flavors of go slow and savor
(I went heavy on these so that THIS year you’re gaining time)

And I smiled at all the love packed snug like a stowaway inside;
I hope you feel it like a song,
a warm hand on your back when you need another along,
a blanket pulled up on a cold night,
a glad squeeze for how you share and shine.

Go ahead and open it early……there will always be more,
always be enough,
always:)

A big warm thankyou to beautiful Kamana for having me over at her stunning place!  Treat yourself to a visit
to her warm island and even warmer heart.  

kisses and kings…..

I lay my mind down firm beneath the tree
my back grateful against floor warmed by short stay of sunshine,
heart heavy for my mister
on his George Baily bridge,
a blizzard of discouragement bearing down hard
injustice stinging
sharp bites to his face,
hard to see clear.

My eyes nuzzle deeper into sweet smelling fir tree
squinting to take in the twinkle,
hungry for sight my eyes alone can’t do
…..please take me there.


There in that dream-like place of seeing true
I saw a checkerboard;  my mister was the red
and the game was hurting on him bad
and his eyes met mine
in that place where I feel helpless
and desperate with  ”what can I do?”
and his spirit whispered “King me“.

I squint and puzzle “king me?”
leaning in hard to see.
even as my mind rolls it’s eyes
and I watch my hand reach to my lips
and pluck a red checker
like a spoken kiss
and place it feather-light on his head.

I speak and release the checker……”be free to find fresh vision,”
…..Life-strength surged into his piece and he became more focused and aware of options.

“be free to attract solutions and synchronicity,”
……another surge of spark.

“Be released to let heaven help you,”
….and so it went on.

Infusion of hope nourished me deep
as I sent out living words to find his spirit
like blowing heavendust to seek and settle
where he needed to “be kinged.”

And as I left the living sparkles on the floor beneath the tree,
back to scary spreadsheets and toilets tainted with flu,
I touched my lips and blew a kiss
wrapped around spiritwords
“sweetheart,  be free to feel Love’s opinion of you…..to believe it,  to agree,  to live out that truth.”
And somehow I began to feel it too.  For him.  For me.  For all of you.

I send you kisses of light!

Giveaway results:
Hooray for Marion,  whose name was plucked from the bucket,  winning the space in class!
I hope this brings her even more Joy and Wonder.  (check out her fantastic blog)
I wish I could bring you all.   I do.

do pluck the pansies….

I love this time of year when endings and beginnings
and yet-to-be’s  hang clustered  on cold branches.
(fat healthy buds waiting alongside the last leaf clinging
…..God,  this whole season thing turns me on!)

Do you feel it……the year sighing?  the soft heave of breath?

The last leaves drop,
plump,  plump,  plumping up pillow for sleep,
sinking into sanctuary,
seeds scattered,
until time to sprout again.

Don’t despair dormancy,”
I tell anxious customers who fear their beauties have died,
  turning brown and crispy
(and my own soul when my crispy parts drip discouragement).

Somehow Love sends pansies.
…..little shots of hope
with bright faces fluttering true
like candlelight on dark wintry halls,
lullabyes in the night.


DO pluck the pansies……pick those pretties and they’ll bloom all the more.
(Hope is funny that way,  too.)

And,  hey,  come on over and pick some of these
to nourish your heart while cold winds blow.
Check out Amanda Falls of Persistent Green‘s new online magazine Sprout!
SO much shiny goodness……and I got to sprinkle some seeds  in the first issue!

and

I’m having a giveaway.
I’ve been too shy to try it before.
But I really believe  in the message of Michele Bergh’s
Prosperity Blooms e-course
and I want to one of you to take the class with me!

If you’ve already joined your bright picture to the sidebar of my blog,
big sunny thanks…….your presence is joy:)
If you’ll leave a comment,  I’ll drop your name in the hat for a chance to win.

If you haven’t already joined my blog,  please do!
That will plop your name in the hat.
(I’d love to hear from you,  too…..always,  always)

I’ll show you who wins in next week’s post.