Laying down and looking up
Words are forming but feel stuck
Tears pooling around my hair
My heart is aching for what once was there
Breath in - breathe out
Cold and alone, hidden tricks
Finally the words escape my lips
My voice echo’s in the empty room
You’re already gone, too soon.
Breathe in - Breathe out
Shut my eyes tight and disappear
Your presence lingers here
Convince myself this is for the best
Maybe now my heart can rest.
Just remember to Breathe in – Breathe out

Dainty hours
spent with her petal soft smile
lush exchanges
how her mouth makes words warm
delicate  moments
when our eyes held each other
little desolate
when hands separated
and time disconnected us
as it blindly does
without so much as an apology

It’s quiet in the mud season.
Off season travelors dine around the six-sided fireplace
discussing this week’s school shooting
and celebrating anniversaries, 40th birhdays.
Their burgers are sometimes overcooked and their wine is overpriced, but
they are happy.
They are far enough away
from the heartbreak of Monday
and imaginary deadlines
and close enough to the pasture
to feel the steam of the horses’ breath
in their outstretched hands.
One compliments my dress
and I touch my belly instinctively.
Her smile reminds me of my mother’s.

A thunder storm rolled through the valley
not too long ago.
I couldn’t remember the last time I heard thunder.
I stood outside in the rain
and closed my eyes
and felt myself getting smaller
with each flash of lightening
as if I were going back in time,
until Drew told me to come inside.

I laughed as he pulled me through the door
and kissed him deeply on the mouth
until he was laughing too, and wet,
and we made love before I had to go to the restaurant
and I felt our baby move for the first time.
As I walked to my car through the mist,
nostalgia found its way into my pores.
All that dampness in the air.