The Unknown’s Known

Today is the day,
littered clouds, bare branches
with bright crimson cardinals—  
thankful for all preceding, 
the stretching, a solemn swallow, 
yet dancing with their song. 

In quiet prayer, 
gazing upon my future, 
equipped and encompassed by grace.  

Sun high, with sidewalk steps, 
I will be standing in the subsequent, 
a slung smile and weathered skin,
beaming back on today.

Authentic Verities

Surrounded by incredible love, 
just as the sun shines within the day—
as beautiful as the morning’s aurora. 

More encompassing than the skin wrapping our bodies, 
or the blood within our veins. 

More bountiful than the
leaves, needles, blooms, buds. 

Steadfast like the mountains fastened into the earth. 

Just as the east meets the west,
never ending yet marrying at every point. 

Given to each of us, 
and all of us.

Early Hours

Walking amidst the air held within the early hours, 
among the premature sunlight rising into the day’s fruition. 
This early morning wind reminds me of my youth—
walking upon red-gray gravel, 
towards the bright yellow bus, 
windows smudged with fingerprints and nose prints, 
with children pressing their cheeks agains the cool glass. 

The birds are chorusing today—
their song reminds me of the one once sung within the backyard of my parent’s home, 
where my brother and I would settle our backs on the trampoline, 
out of breath from trying to out-jump the other;
the same song sung when we’d lay opposites on the hammock, 
swung between two fully-matured aspens—
chatting about our future lives with sore-stomach laughter,  
as the warm wind enlivened us, 
the shade cooled us. 

These particular rays within the early hours are the same that shone through the french-door windows, 
onto me and my sister, within our shared bedroom—
with our silly dance routines
and polly-pocket ventures. 

The sky is the same shade of blue—
the one where my mother would extend her neck, 
and throw her head back, 
marveling on the way the clouds drifted upon their own, vast blue ocean. 

But the sun shines today, also. 
Within these hours, the clouds skirt across the sky, 
and move with this fresh, crisp air that I steal into my lungs. 
These trees with the fluttering leaves, this morning, 
reminds me of today, 
and will remind me of tomorrow, too.

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.

Needle & Thread

The magnificent blanket, 
delicately draped upon the shoulders of the girl, 
with the long brown hair and broken insides. 

It is threaded with compassionate comfort, 
carefully woven together with relief.

As she sits within the silence, 
wrapping her in warmth,  
it allows her a moment to rest. 

Offering an opportunity of recovery, 
reformation and revival. 

I am not the blanket, but I was that girl once.  
And now I can only hope to be the spool, 
and the needle which threaded it together.

The Beach

Eyes drifting along the coast,
as steady as the tide yet wandering like the wind,
towards the bodies that inhabit the beach
—scattered like the sand.

Each comprised from their own reflections,
deductions and musings.
Accompanied by their comrades and family.

They are you and they are me,
splashing upon the shores—
only alternate variations as a result of their past and perceptions.

Basking within the sunlight,
bathing in the ocean,
sinking deeper into my thoughts.

I wonder while I walk the waterfront,
seeing them smile while they splash upon the shoreline,
if they catch that this continuance is condensed—
and if they hold these occasions close

like the waves meeting the coastline.