December 2024

December:  The first 

I'm the first to awake
 sky dark * stars bright
my wishes came true

*****
 the beds in the house 
filled with loved ones
there is time and pies

flowers from Victoria

​xo

 

November 2024

 

November 2024

And just like that, it's the last day of October

the sun rises and offers a rainbow

the horizon murky with rain and wonder

as I try to capture moments of joy

in other rooms, in other states

there are ones I call Love(d)

I think back on the numerous times

we called through the walls of our home

 R A I N B O W, come quick 

and how we stood together, looking out 

to the magic we held within

xo

October (almost) 2024

...and don't you, too, wonder?

what would happen if...

spread your body out on the sand,

allow your heart to open, close your eyes,

 remember a time that took your breath

and sent it on the wings of birds

 albino pigeon or one of the two egrets 

standing tall near the empty bridge

shrouded in ocean mist and salt air

what if you created a new you

xo

 September 2024

Oddly or not, I'm quite enamored by dying plants:

the way they let go quietly and how I continue 

to offer them water and carry them from 

sunlight to darkness

wishing for one more day

thanking them for beauty

I've always been in love with the unfolding

tulips as they surrendered their golden inners

turning themselves inside out & upside down

colors that fade & fall: I saved spent blossoms

kept them in glass jars and on windowsills

Now, I let them fall onto the kitchen table

I sit with them as I say my goodbyes

xo

August 2024

 

August 2024

Today, we celebrate the birth of Gramma Jeannette, 

and tomorrow, the birth of Grampa Fran, 

also lovingly known as Grampa Friend. 

We had these two elders for many years, 

yet still, it was not long enough

I have a photograph of them together

walking up our driveway, Gramma carrying a 

lemon cake in a faded Tupperware container, 

him with a folding green and white lawn chair

arriving at our annual summer party

In the background, the corn fields are past knee-high

& the sun is slanted and hazy like a good summer day

the kids are in bathing suits with muddy feet 

and their friends are paddle-boating amongst

 dragonflies, tadpoles, and milkweeds

I don't need the photo to remind me of the love

it lives in my blood and bones and breath

xo

July 2024

 

And just like that, the opening happened. 

The going big, the readying to shine. 

The invitation to witness this beauty, 

the quiet way of turning towards the light, 

even knowing what was yet to come. xo

 

June 2024

have you ever read the story the Iris tells

the inscription that lives to share the truth

the slow writing of time & beauty & love

the scratched reminders of what has been 

what shall be in the slowings of all things

look closely, she beacons, touch my hand

with the stems of your intricate unfolding

she pokes her nose into the air and waits

xo

 

May 2024

Yesterday, I rediscovered a photograph taken some time ago

the way the light reaches is one of my touchstones

for this thing to silently cross my vision

encouraging me to look more slowly

to breathe more deeply

to be that love

xo

under the feet

washed clean 

smooth stones

fill a pocket or moment or hours of awe

s l o w down

be still

know love

xo

 

There is something so hauntingly gorgeous in the witnessing of dying flowers: beauty surrenders.
Dropping petals and pieces, smells are pungent, carry memories of ones gone before. 
With the fading comes a softness: a gentle reminder of what one day shall be:
the giving back, the letting go, the last dance, the final fare thee well. 
xo

February 2024 

 

The four directions placed themselves, and I thought of the father, sun, sons, and ghosts. The woods called my name, and I raised my head and listened. No wind, only soft words coming from my heart. And still, I know I am an orphan to the ferns and spider webs. I am lost and found. Saved. 

And searching. xo