The tree knows nothing
but how to be only
what it is..

   the wind blows,
   and it responds..

And embedded within
  the treelines
are the little-ones  hiding;

There is a safety
within the  simplicity
of the groves..
Outside the treeline
danger lurks

Little Spirits  were born
with their little  freedoms  intact--

In freedom.. they are only
drawn out  by Love

one day
your warmth will find you
to let you see
your sun had the ability to shine

it was not a failure
it was waiting for the right time
to shine for itself
instead of others

He was the rising sun
Left his warmth in our bed

Early in the morning

& When I returned
I lie on his side dreaming

Of golden rays
And orange sunrise

it was the sunset that promised you a new day, a better day
the colour of her smile after she made a silly joke
the adorable giggles she hid and the shy confessions she made

the warmth of her hugs, words and her eyes
it was the comfort that bloomed when she told me 'everything will be okay'. the safety I found in her eyes when I nodded, believing it too.

the sleepy goodnights and cheerful good mornings. it was the orange love between yellow smiles, forehead kisses and red-burning flames of passion

love that was always there, even when the sun went to sleep.

it was the all-encompassing flutters in my chest when we were together. orange butterflies racing against one another.

orange was the colour of her love, like the sunset, that always promised a better day

I imagine sitting on a porch somewhere humid and calm,
a tall tree, full of hand fruits, providing shade to foot traffic.
In this imagining, the lemonade is almost too sweet but doesn't stick to the table when it dries, and the mesh lining of the patio denies mosquitos all entry.
Their buzzing is drowned by the sound of ice being crushed three or four times with margarita mix and my favorite sin. Here, life has halted so dearly in a way I've always wanted, and in this, there is peace.
My parents would have kept a container of peanuts nearby to have with their Pepsis for days like this--
days where sound and warmth and humidity mingle, and fanning yourself with an old church pamphlet was better than being
bored, comfortable, and air-conditioned.

i usually try
to start work
at 09:00
but today
a streak of sun
across the middle
of the floor
was so appealing
i had to lie
stretched out
and splayed
in that pool
of warmth
within seconds
of being down
the dog nosed
at my ear
and slumped
at my side
his chin resting
on my arm
perhaps
seeking closeness
the comfort of
my presence
or maybe
simply protesting
a hint that he wished
to stretch out
where i was lay
as clouds crept
across the sky
to steal our sunlight
he shifted his weight
let out a deep-lunged sigh
but stayed at my side

Only within darkness
Can our truth shine
Behold we are the candle

Give me a spring morning, far from winter’s troubles.
On an earth axis-turned toward the life-giving sun.

Announce it with tulips and trumpets of yellow daffodils.

Watch as young, colorful, impressionist, bluebell,
dogwood, snowdrop, and primrose blossoms preen,
in the candid radiance of the abaxial springtime sun.

Enjoy new life dancing, playfully on tactile wafts of warm air.

Inhale that air, freshly fragranced by flowers in luscious bloom.

Catch the bright chirp of new life and hear the humble
buzz of bees hard at their work, spreading the pollen of life.  

Then lengthen these hopeful, verdant days, like a blessing.