i have this thought often–
this feeling of wanting to engrave images
in my mind, etch it into my heart,
burn it into my eyes
and it makes me feel, all at once,
at peace and content, saddened and hopeless–
strange, the range of thoughts and emotions
that a green field can inspire
a slice of late spring or early summer–
the fog thick,
the air thin,
a quiet, hushed, steamy blanket of sleep
embraces the river,
the mountain,
and my morning gaze
the marsh holds its secrets
in shades of green
and slivers seen
of bullfrogs and herons
and red-winged black birds there in
that mysterious, almost sensual world
of whispers, of sighs, of hidden life unfurled
lay your head down,
lay it on my shoulder and let me heal you
with my touch
and my warmth
and the soft, fading light
of the dawning dusk
her gaze looked downward,
serene and peaceful–
surrounded by empty vessels
ready to be filled,
to be admired,
to be cared for and loved
i saw a small hawk being sky-bombed by a
smaller black bird and it occurred to me that
maybe i know how it feels to be both
bright yellow peonies
raindrops falling on the river
a heron swallowing fish
goldfinches flying with the morning breeze
glittering wand on the window sill
a jumping spider navigating the rain
roasted kale with spices and herbs
ceramic bowls of quartz
soft pink roses fading in the sun
phone calls with far away family
chicks and hens in old mccoy pottery
tiny bunnies
a moment of silence
and a moment of thankfulness
and a moment of peace
and a moment of respect–
a moment of remembering
antique roses
used books
vintage postcards
weathered wood
rusty skeleton keys
brass lockets
glass marbles
tea stained letters
beeswax candles
cracked tea cups
silent movies
old sparkling beads
hand made lace
sea glass
vinyl records
pocket watches
worn cowboy boots
typewriters
working window shutters
woven baskets
cursive writing
i found beauty in your serpentine line,
in your sharpened glint and your sterling shine,
in your elegant edges entwined
by your punishing, silvery spine
spanishwoods 