yesterday
was a different kind of conversation
with petals flying and thunder booming
in the end, a soft a rain fell
against the night
*
this morning
songbirds are warbling
the ancient trees are still and plaintive
a jay screeches a call to action
as the sky stretches
*
tomorrow
is not here yet
Today, I gave birth to my Father I held him close in my arms and kissed his forehead whispering, “I love you so much” and rocking him (so gently) Today, I protected my Father kept him safe, held and fed when He stumbled, I caught him (gentle hearts) Today, I disciplined my Father gave Him…
in my bedroom on this side of the mirror, i see a world of collected treasures. many given to me by my most precious treasures– the souls i share this life with. things made by hands i have held (and loved). flowers, now dried given to me by little people with cherubic grace. (buttercups, dandelions…
“Kiss the boys and make them cry. Don’t need your heart cuz I got mine.” This song came on randomly today and pretty much matches my mood. I don’t really want to make boys cry (much). The truth is, I am just noticing my shadow these days. Watching it get pissed off. Watching it want…
fierce wind dances with wetness warm coffee on tongue, a jet pushes through the sky
The Guest House This being human is a guest house. Every morning a new arrival. A joy, a depression, a meanness, some momentary awareness comes as an unexpected visitor. Welcome and entertain them all! Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows, who violently sweep your house empty of its furniture, still, treat each guest honorably….
In this week’s unscripted audio love note, I discuss embracing mystery and getting paid, being and feeling supported by my Patreon folx and creating a container for my work