The day is too quiet,
like the forest when birds hush
when a predator is nearby.
The heavy air, the lack of sound,
the lurking is what gets to me.
The feeling there is something
sinister waiting. I try and move
but I am waiting too.
Like in a bad horror movie, I want to run
or call out but I am silent, still,
measuring my breath
in what is decidedly a confined space.
Maybe I am sinister as well,
a little lost in a world I willingly step into,
knowing I don’t belong.
Not happy with the dichotomy.

There’s a hymn at my periphery,
about simple gifts
which seem as far flung as dragons
or fighting angels or art coming alive.

We don’t need but we want…a taste, a view,
a soothing hand, a thrilling jolt,
a sweet spring, a healthy winter,
a tomorrow of love.

I want to be more than a luxury,
enjoyed in small bites but
unnecessary for the most part.
I want a simple tomorrow.

What do you have in your pocket?
We have the makings of a southern live oak.
After rummaging through daydreams
Where agape desire sleeps
At the heart of our story, softly evergreen,
Sprawling
Through sunny days and nights so gusty
Storms ruffle our tender leaves.
Yet we let go, twisted and dusty
Left to watch how the light weaves
Our love across a sprawling green.

I missed my chance
at frolicking in the meadow
as a young girl
because I was too melancholy.
I missed a step into the sleek city
with its sparkle and grunge speaking to me
because I was trying to hold on
to something real.
I missed living adventurously
because I was tired of trying
so hard to find a place
where I belonged – so I made one.
I miss the point of a lot of stories
including my own
because I get caught up in details
so the next step may be a doozy.

It’s a cold magic today,
like the kind I remember
during the big freeze in North Carolina
when I was a young girl
and we had more than a week off school
because they’re didn’t know what to do
with all that snow.
The ice weighed down tree branches
and it looked so beautiful
but it was dangerous too.
I remember walking outside, slowly,
like any misstep would find me falling
into another world.
I tasted the fresh snow and the ice
and knew it was something purer than me.
Today is like that.
Cold and a little dangerous.
It’s too bright to be bleak
and it feels like the ground is brittle
but it’s more solid than I am,
with my changeable moods
and wandering thoughts.
I hardly taste fresh snow now
because the world is too warm
and I am so tainted it seems a great divide
but I like to watch it cover everything
as if we can all be fresh again.