Manifest artfully

I set a stack of dishes on the table

before dinner and it’s angled coyly.

I toss pillows and a blanket on the sofa

on a diagonal.

I put jars in the pantry seemingly without

pattern, but there’s one there.

The linen shelf has sheets and towels

in various shades of stone.

I light just one or two candles at a time

for enough light- just enough.

I curl to one side when reading a novel.

I eyeball spice amounts in recipes.

I only correct people who say my name

wrong if I’m going to meet them again.

I sing every song as if it could be my last.

I write straight out of my heart but

filtered through my mind. No edits.

I like trickery with words -not deeds.

I water plants and feel slightly benevolent.

I am in love with the moon

no matter how much it chooses to show.

I never tire of wind or trees or hills

or colors or shadows or bread or tea

or hugs or laughs or deep breaths

of fresh air after being cooped up.

I have edited my childhood memories.

I have made a safe harbor for my children.

I have no inner sense of direction

and always find something to interest me

no matter if it’s a dynamic mountain range

or a grocery store. It’s all a wonder.

I think cinnamon and garlic are blessings.

The wonder of the first hyacinth of spring

is something I’ll never get over. Just like

the first view of the ocean after being

landlocked or the array of stars enough to

cradle you if you fell upwards.

I crave an understanding ear and kind smile

but usually create befuddlement.

Texas sheet cake is true ambrosia.

I’ve never tried making it for fear of

falling short as usual.

I am supremely confident in my menial work

and in my place in the forest but have no

roots or sense of place anywhere else.

I like to read people’s stories in their eyes

and often lose what they’re actually saying.

Someday soon I think the pieces of me

will fit together even if only for awhile

and even if it’s like a silent epic live story

nobody else knows, I will be enough for an afternoon and so will you.