The above photo is one of many my son, Jesse Crossman, has taken. He has the eye and heart of a lover of nature and all things beautiful. I am honored to share the photo, as I am to share him with the world. I am honored to be the mother of children who pay deep attention to this sacred and special world and time. There is much grief, loss, and sadness to hold, yet if our moments can also be touched by one another, we can know we aren't alone; together, the weight of all things can be lifted toward the light. xo

 

October 2023 

October arrived in many ways : Tears in unexpected places at unexpected times
: There were holes in the morning glories : The window screens, and my heart

Not one thing caused any of these incidents: It was a season of too much
: Heat and hatred, death and dying, angst and anger, rain and rage

What do we call it now : Autumn, the letting go, the dead leaves underfoot 
: The knowing, the laying down of darkness, the silent way it arrives

Hold tight dear heart : Courage is within
xo

 

November 2023

Sometimes, the only thing bigger than a sky 
is the moment we remember it's there;
holding space, ever-changing, always shifting.

***

There was a time: Most of my life

I considered the sky to be blue, grey, or dark

but dark meant sleep, and grey meant sad,

and blue was a Crayola crayon. 

Blue was ocean, river, morning 

then my firstborn's eyes 

and that's when the sky flew open

and I knew I'd never be able 

to see it how it had once been.

xo

 

August 2023

Tomorrow is Dad's Birth Day 

he isn't here to celebrate

so many times and places 

I miss him; he's in my bones

I know little of cellular invasion

the parts of me I shared with Mom

I know more about DNA and fusion

but still so very little, tiny like 

the start of me, Dad playing his part

the joining of bodies and the magic

that made me whole, hopefully

But still, Dad is missed

xo

 July 2023

it's hot and humid

there are smells leftover from the dogs who died years ago

the towels are damp, and it's hard to pull on a pair of jeans

but we say it was a long winter and carry-on, and marvel

at trees laden with fat, bright leaves, the rain only knocking

the blossoms and the bees as they waddle in the sweetness

it's hot and humid

and I do not like it

xo

 JUNE 2023

beauties and beasts of humidity 

my hair and nails curl and break

the dog can not get enough water

I can not get enough breath or air

 and still, we waited for the arrival

and so we speak about other times

 the bluebird skies of early winters

the day he was buried in the snow

xo

 

 

May 2023

 

And here it is, May Day.

Soon to be Mother's Day.

A time to show the earth's abundance 

in flowers and still, the skies pale & thin.

Shadows lay down in this same vein;

 the vanity of being adored and celebrated

and they, too, will be cut; they will turn 

themselves inside out to show you love

and to remind us everything has a season. 

xo

March: In like a lion, they say. Out like be-damned, or a ram, but the little lamb Mary once have had must have run away with the moon. Or the fork, or a bend spoon. And so we begin April: A turn of a calendar page, if you still have such a thing? I have many, I like the photographs and heavy paper.I like turning a page and knowing it's so and sows and sews Birth Day and doing the math to guess their age. That's a lot of spin arounds; I don't say this to them. I say may it be kind, gentle, joyful. May you be held in LOVE. And before you know it the page will be turned again, and I'll remember Gramma Annie saying time slows when we don't feeling well. And I'll add that into the card saying may you be held in stellar heath (and humor, I like to add this for good measure, and do hope it comes true for all my loved ones.) And with that I press a pretty postage stamp on the envelope and off it goes. xo

 March 2023

beauty bought at the market

wrapped, yet still, they catch the cold

the leaves crack and turn toward death

blossoms hopeful, hang on, and it's this

and a million other things offering hope

and so I change the water in the vase 

that once belonged to a favorite aunt

and the flowers go on living, offering 

joy and reason and reminders and love

xo

 

often it's untidy and broken things that call our names

it's fine to want to fix things, but sometimes the worn

weathered are reminders of where it is we come from

and how it is we are moving through this wild world

one foot touching the earth, dragging the other behind

 grayness presses itself against a morning sky and hearts

and all things soften and spread, and you can only say

beautiful before you begin again the search for treasures

xo