My Feast Day

In gentle light of fading sun,
when I know deep stillness
will soon shroud my being,
I slow myself to pause in the
flush of day’s end, and ready
myself to plunge with audacity
into the unknown.

It is my feast day, a remembrance
day of my birth, the beginning
from depth into light, from
assurance into bold awakening.

I’ve traveled far since my advent,
crossroads in the distance call for
negotiation. But this night gives
me joys to savor.

In gratitude I hold you dear,
my friend, my love. My heart
is extravagant with your presence.
I am brave in your goodwill. I
am boundless in my journey
with you at my side.

You Spoke To Me Today

You spoke to me today
morning crescent moon alight at
the foot of my bed welcoming me awake

Your voice gentle rising steam
cupped within, held in my hand
warming the early chill

I heard your laughter today
my heart beats strong and faithful
for those who make me laugh

When I listen, you are there
whispering my name
holding me near

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Author’s Note:

Little poems of love – to the Creator, the Goddess, to my love, and all those I love and who love me.

Happy Valentine’s Day.

Inhale

In this story, she knows no fear.
Softness of last light crosses her cheek.

The hush of evening’s calm enters her,
spirals inward, down. An afterthought

of day’s swiftness tumbles into moist earth
beneath her bare feet. His caress tenders a longing

deep within her being, this story hers, eyes closed
to what is, inhales all that could be.

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Author’s Note:

Today a little challenge from Tweetspeak Poetry and Everyday Poems. Use a line from a poem that shows up in my morning e-mail from Everyday Poems and create one of my own.

Valentine’s Day and the first line from the poem Khaleesi Says by Leah Umansky, author of Domestic Uncertainties, is my inspiration.

Good Night Wishes

I wish for you sweet kisses
honeyed remembrances
lavishly bestowed

May you be lost in tender
embrace under a winsome
moonglow smile

Let your ears fill with doting
whispers seducing you
to luscious slumber

On this eventide, now
and forever, may you know
my heart’s wide berth

Goodnight, my love
sweet dreams
sleep well

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Author’s Note:

Just a little bit of sweetness thinking ahead to Valentine’s Day, my favorite holiday.

Avowal

You broke my heart
not in a love mate sort of way
but profound, raw
an abyss wide open to the elements
you painted me in compassion

You saved me
not in a shining knight sort of way
you reached into earth and pulled
with both hands through muck
standing beside me at the front
equals in strength, brave in our fervor

You listened to me
not as friend but as soul within soul
kindling a fire, faithful true
knowing my worth
holding me in Light

You flung wide the doors
opened the invitation
familiar with the treacherous path
you espoused me as One in Promise
I accept Your hand

Flip the Spin

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Sometimes I wonder
if I see the world
upside down
or in reflection

Is your smile a
transcription of mine
or mine of yours

Is what I see that which
clearly hangs in front of me
or rests looking up
in the sheen of introspection

If I could look through your eyes
I’d flip the spin
and fathom why
you don’t just walk by

Perigee

The elfin crystal owl sat high
not within reach
placed with care away
from little hands
perfectly spotted to cast about
morning sun lambency
as if delicate ice somehow
formed itself overnight
into a winged creature

When the setting sun
made its perigee around the
house and through the
port window above the door
its ray shot through
the lucent bird-body bleeding
a rainbow onto the whitewashed wall

I watched every day
I yearned to capture not the glitter
or the arched colors created in tandem
I wanted to hold the wide-eyed creation
in my child hands
keep it forever
make it mine
prove my affection

I love not to own
not to hold so tight the sun
cannot catch your brilliant cuts
I must learn to let go
loosen my captive hold
only then can we dance
in His radiance
in vivid hues
in perigee or apogee
in our fleeting orbit

Click

He left without saying good-bye. The door clicked behind him and Anna’s eyes opened. The gentle click was like an alarm to her. Big slams never bothered her. Big slams were meant for show, someone wanting attention, making a statement. He didn’t do big slams. It was the almost imperceptible click that banged in her head. Then fell to the pit of her stomach to carry it with her through the week.

Anna slid out from under the covers. With a slight limp she padded to the kitchen in her satin slips-ons, mules her aunt used to call them. She made a cup of tea. It was always peppermint to soothe her stomach, give her a little pep, and fill her with good memories of her aunt’s summer garden.

As she sat at the table, a chill seeped between the cracks of the worn window sash and frame. It mixed with the steam rising from her cup to make a ghostly swirl in front of the blackness outside the window. Anna watched it twirl and twist, a ballerina on pointe, a bit off balance, spinning out of control, fading into nothing.

She took the last sip and lifted her eyes to look through the window. She could begin to make out the shape of the perfect maple across the street silhouetted in the morning glow. No leaves, just long branches reaching out to no one. Under the tree sat a bench facing another tree across the cobblestone walk, a path that led lovers through the park to quiet spots where secrets were made. This tree, only a bit smaller, an ash sat opposite the maple. Arms still reaching but this one not so perfectly shaped. A heavy snow one winter snapped her branches leaving the ash a bit lopsided.

There they were. Two trees. One tall and perfectly shaped, the other a bit broken. Two trees not side by side but separated by a path. No one would think them a pair, certainly not by shape or genus.

He gave Anna a drawing of the two trees. Part of the drawing was above ground, two trees growing in their separate worlds. The other part of the picture was below showing the roots of both trees. One stray root from each tree grew and twisted towards the other until the two met embracing one another, coming together without being seen. That’s what he named it, the drawing, Coming Together.

The memory of the click of the door rose up from the pit of her stomach, the click that happened each week when he left for home. It would come back up and want to bang around inside her head reminding Anna that that was all there was to embrace until next week when he would visit once again to draw.

Drawing was his passion and she gave him the room. He couldn’t do it on his path outside. It wasn’t allowed in his place where it was looked upon as frivolous, a waste of his time. But Anna knew it was what filled his soul, hers too. So she offered her room and herself. Also something seen as an unacceptable frivolity.

They would have tea. Earl Grey for him. He was really a coffee drinker, but she assured him tea would do the job. She would eventually introduce him to her herbal teas, but that would come later.

Anna would drink her own mix, a love potion of sorts. Only she never shared it with him. Rose hips, lavender, and rosemary made a bit of a bitter brew, but she liked the bite. That’s what love was all about. The bite. The sting.

When he finished drawing, she would make another cup for each of them and bring out a sweet, always something with chocolate. They would discuss philosophy. Not religion, she demanded. She wasn’t religious. Just like the Earl Grey, he started with philosophy to make her comfortable. He eventually planned on introducing her to religion. But that, too, would come later.

Then he would stand to leave and Anna would touch his hand. And he would stay until just before dawn when the click of the door would announce his departure, fall to the pit of her stomach. And tea would be steeped, much like Anna waiting for another week.