suddenly soaring instead….

I’m grateful for the chance
to create and carve and choose
and hurl my voice into the loving and living I still get to do,
and even when I blunder and bumble and bruise
there is beauty in the falling forward
and so I help myself to seconds of grace
and get back up and go again

This life is short and seems to be gaining speed
with each trek around the sun
so I’ll cry my tears and grin sillier still and throw my arms wider
and grateful more for
~my plenty enough of a little camera still
swinging from my arm in the apple green case
(nope,  didn’t get a big girl camera yet),
~pretty scarves to wear in my hair while the sun beats down
and the wild winds blow
(another busy season is underway and I smell again of ben gay),


~trees in bloom and small sour pickles and everywhere robins
and finding fresh ways and red beans and rice and most excellent tea,
~ a new pair of reading glasses waiting unscratched on the table
and a whole journal full of blank pages just waiting for me there,
~and daffodils and snowbells and primrose and fuzzy pussy willow joy
and baby steps forward,  even when they’re slow,


and how it’s relief when you’re driving and you see a lump
flapping helpless in the road up ahead
and it turns out to be only a plastic bag
and I wonder sometimes if it’s mostly plastic bags I’m running from,
just spastic fear mind-painting old despair.
I want to press the pedal brave and go face down the things I dread
….I may find myself suddenly soaring instead.

I’ve been noticing the early daffodils braving the cold
blooming bright,  outspoken,  and bold
in spite of the pounding they take in the harsh cold winds
-they spitshine my courage just watching them.
Just look at those faces.

“If we never experience the chill of a dark winter,
it is very unlikely we will ever cherish the warmth
of a bright summer’s  day.”
-Anthon St. Marteen


raining quiet thunder….

I see you there,  little tenderling,
pushing through rock  hard earth,
reaching and stretching,
as the harsh night glazes over bitter cold
and still you breathe into the change,

Uncurling to sky and light and now,
opening wide the trueness of you.
Yes, I see you there,  brave one,
and my breath catches
and I have to stop
and hold my heart
because it rolls me

your fragile petals cupping sunshine and hope
in brittle frost that seems to slice right through your gentle way
and yet you stay
and pour your song out unafraid
and it gets me in the places where sometimes I still hide
and I marvel how you’re strong in a ways I only dream to be

dancing braver into the open
and deeper into the deep,
I hear your quiet thunder raining heaven over me.

(this little love note i write to you,  too,
dear one, who is braver than you know)

“Courage is found
in unlikely places.”
-J.R.R. Tolkien