Ferns for my soul
Echinaceas for my childhood
Is what I told my mother when
She cried looking at my arm
That I had so thoughtfully inked
Botanical permanence.

I’d like to

But my brain's response is sluggish
And the me you know is not
The me that I am...

Right now.

Ivory, sheer curtains
Breathe- sunlit with passing wind.
Delicately brushing eggshell plaster
Before falling to original shape.

I wrap myself in their peace.
Matching breath to theirs,
And it feels like
I am being held by your
Love.

Is a dream I can’t have.

Away

Into sticky
Summer night.

The nape of my neck
Tickled by passing breath
Of flower scent.

Laughing with moon mother,
Was I mingling with constellations or
Reflections?

Surely I was dreaming.

Honeydew nectar pulls me into her *****.
Thick blankets of soil pregnant with rain
And rain boots.
Damp earth and
Silk moss beds cushion toes and rolling laughter
As I fall into spring.

I’ll sleep when time rises
In the quiet
Of Saturdays.

And as heaviness weighs
My web-veined lids,
I’ll breath in

The silence that
Is morning.