like a hummingbird flitting forward and back sipping the sweetness never still never landing too fast to be captured until she flies into the glass headlong f a l l i n g in the stunned stillness hands reach out holding protecting sheltering feeding (not all hands hurt or capture)
at dusk cartwheels on the grass sister teaching sister with ubuntu the crunch of dried autumn leaves fading red sun shimmers on the river pink cheeks hair tumbling wildly we watch our breath appear on the exhale moments woven together with great laughter and love in autumn bliss
in this time between seasons as the wheel turns and the days darken, the cold becomes turgid then flaccid and again– disorienting to this body that craves comfort. on a pilgrimage in the forest i am held and feel the soft earth ‘neath my feet. my warm breath is a bouquet of white flowers greeting…
I wonder how many women have written or thought, “I am not a side dish, an appetizer, or dessert. I am an entree.” I am not a glass of wine to savor after a night out with your boys. I am not a piece of cake to eat while your wife is sleeping in your…
