Rachel W.

I have the honor of knowing several Rachels, all unique in different ways. Rachel W. is no exception–and I’m thrilled to share this poem with you. This poem that’s a part of the Sister Series, a series of celebrating individual women and sharing their beauty through poetry.

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Rachel W.

by Regan Smith

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The earth laughs in flowers, 
a sweet script of poetry 
Ralph Waldo Emerson once wrote. 

If the earth laughs in flowers, 
then she must surely be the 
heavens smiling; created with the 
colored lens of joy, kindness; 
a great gift to the earth. 

And with her ivy green eyes, 
she fully embodies the stature of 
Yarrow flower–for her warmth, 
soft smile, and laughter can heal
even the deepest wounds.

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Tiger Lilies and Love Letters

Cheyenne Raine is a contributing author to Introspective Collective. We often email each other alternatively, with this poem landing in my inbox. I received it on a particularly rough afternoon, one in which didn't conform to time's calculated temperament. I retreated to a separate room during my work day, and soaked in the words. I cried honest tears from the genuine love stitched into these letters. I pray they speak to you, as they've spoken to me. 

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Tiger Lilies and Love Letters

a bundle of tiger lilies fall asleep
when the moon rises.
i do believe you would like
to rise, early, with me,
and walk outside,
barefoot and sleepy–
to see how the sun's fingertips
slowly open up the orange petals.
they open so gently, light spilling
into their core.

i wish that i could gather
more than tiger lilies
and fresh sage, for you.
i wish that they could be tucked into brown paper bags
and kept fresh on a road trip to you. left at your doorstep
with the smallest of letters that whispers:
today you are a bundle of joy, to me.
so, here is a bundle of joy, for you.

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Cheyenne's books are available on the 'Books' page with a link to order on Amazon (charcoal thunderstorms pictured), and she's currently working on a special bilingual poetry collection! 

Beaming

The front door shuts,  
with a bit of a struggle, 
and as plastic wrapping chatters,  
I can hear that his hands are full. 

A sweet smile, 
with a gentle grasp, 
unveiling a secret surprise—
holding a tidy bouquet bursting with tiny white flowers. 

My eyes arch and dimples appear; 
I rush to embrace my husband—
throwing my arms around his shoulders. 

The occasion of introspection, 
translating emotion embodied through the pure white petals,
and the crisp chrysanthemum buds. 
They collect together in unison, 
bundled into the vibrant stalk with the outstretched leaves. 

I shed the plastic wrapping, 
and grab a mason jar from the cabinet,
filling it with a rush of clear water for the stems to soak within.

As I awaken this morning, 
I’m met with the delicate floral fragrance.  
I cherish these moments—
blooming and beaming,
and swell with admiration for my honey-sweet husband.