I lifted you so that you would learn to lift yourself.
I listended to you so that you would learn to listen to your own voice.
I carried you so that you would know when to carry others.
I loved you so that you would rain love generously on
all that grows around you with a yearning thirst.
Sweet, little babies…
the teen girls wrap you in blanketed warmth,
holding you like soft treasures in the sand.
My mother takes the light one and strokes its
head against her cheek. We speak softly,
the red light warming our hands.
This is a fleeting moment lasting under five minutes,
which I will remember long after the day ends
and the moment passes.
There, beneath fallen feathers,
sheltered by brilliant cotton scraps,
dreaming behind forest faerie doors,
floating within tiny walnut-shell vessels–
her spirit sleeps.
We want so much to be individual, to be different.
We want love and respect. We want happiness and safety.
We want peace and tranquility and meaning and
warm coffee on a cold morning.
We are all different, but really, not so different after all.
Sweet and lovely seed pod,
your suspended beauty
makes me pause.
The afternoon sun filters through the blinds,
throwing sharp shadows with curiosity and suspense.
sparkling greens and
magic sticks,
lost dreams,
impish tricks,
faerie wings and
amber leaves,
mighty sprites
and viney weaves,
mossy greys,
silver blues,
with tiny lemon rays
burst through
There are times when it is wise to stop so that others may go.
Blushing pinks–
the exact colors of a dress I wore more than 30 years ago.
Now faded and forgotten, like youthful beauty.
spanishwoods 