Ingredients:

suitcases
photo albums
quick wit
a  new space that is comfortable to breathe in, raise other beings in, and nurture pets and your spirit in.
Sprinklings of humor to shake on it all when it gets to be too much. Mason jars of self-appreciation and worth to open in an emergency, if these qualities are forgotten and old patterns resurrected.

Preparation:

First, sit quietly with yourself.
Breathe deeply, as many times as you need.
Fill as many soul cups as you can with confidence,
and pour them on yourself, until they sink into the
soapstone of your pores.

If needed, tip back your head and open your mouth,
in order to have a more direct inflow.
After that, take just as many cups of calm
and pour them in, slowly and with generosity.
It is okay if you overflow; you may need extra serenity
later, when you are in the midst of action.

Let the two ingredients mix, slowly, until colors as yet unnamed
are formed in your solar plexus, spilling
throughout the entirety
of your body.

Take a break and blow bubbles, for lightness.
Yes, you may laugh like a loon.

Marinade:*

After the laughter has subsided, take a big dose of self- love and rub it all over yourself, drizzled like fine coconut-scented oil. Do not miss a spot, even on the parts that you have a problem with. In fact, give those extra love.
And now, for the rub*: This has been simmering for a while. It is time to push it all into the oven and bake it. The heat is rising, so be quick.
Take all precious memories and sew them into the pockets of your coat. The ugly ones, burn, quickly and thoroughly. Scatter the ashes into the wind.
Hang new pictures on the wall.  Splashes of nature you have photographed. Mandalas created by a precious daughter. A platypus wishing you goodnight by your little flower imp. A cheeky photo of your boy, to remind you of inner sauciness.
All of these strengthen with love.

Finally, rest your head upon the new pillow and inhale the scent of freshly laundered springtime. For now, the ordeal of your winter has ended.

Time for a long, languid, luxurious dessert.
A new life!

Bon appetite!

Forest floor, underbrush abound;
The light sprinklings of winter found.
Snow kissed scenery, that
Whether cold be dreary
Still seems the more dreamy, than
Tracing each step.
These frigid months of death-
Before life springs back
Bringing fresh greenery

Dust lies on piano, its lust to play a tune
Powder upon ballet slippers, in  mansion ruin
Come light through weathered window
On chair, on table, on letter marooned

Contents never read, her fear what it reads
Years it sits unopened, as felt  be no need
Come  light through weathered window
Causing illumination, on doubts, indeed

Music echoes through  its musty lingers
Memories enchanted; his long dancing fingers
Come  light through weathered window
Onto keys, sprinklings particle bringers

All this sifting silt, effervescent in the air
As her heart was so jilt, and left without a care
Come  light through weathered window
Untouched slippers, feet dancing bare

Turning up  dust, each and every day
Lady of this mansion, dancing her cares away
Come  light through weathered window
Forever in swirls of doubts, she stays

Dusty universe
with sprinklings of light,
you're a magical pondering.

I wonder if you wonder back.

Then expanse hits me.
Fascination of winsomeness
in elements crashing,
forming new star clusters,
nebula unknown or yet to be
sowed, beckons an idea of
horror in mediocrity. How
should one stand out
amongst your immense glory?
Will effervescent bubbling spectrums
with spiraling arms of some
galaxy suddenly singe
any existence known to man?
Could any man guess your plan?

Earth shattering revelation,
I'm guessing there is no plan.
So I'll make my own,
and let all this revolving
and evolving
take care its' own.

Coriander sprinklings and subtle tastes
as we lean together and giggle as children
exchanging nibbles and pecks of love
at the gentle lullings of our sleeping boats

And the sun would shine on our dark heads
burning our hairs and lighting the fires
echoing our laughter while we filled the earth
with eternal love that would span the sky

And all the distances would pull us apart
taking our lives this way and that
winding through the darkest routes
enshrining our happiness to the past

But we would - as always - remember well
clinging to the smells of the world
keeping our hearts closed to disruptions
but letting our confidence sway––––

And yet the world would bring us back
to hear our giggles and childish banters
taking delight at the slightest triggers
and painting lives in watercolour

So moments pass and times repeat
clear in the eye of our observers

But crimson shades and all spring scents
watch our bonded rains and shines

And for every moment I reflect
you shine brighter than luminance.

sprinklings of soft flour
scattered upon teal green kitchen tiles
well wishings and moving chairs
make soft background noises
I look up at the deep red of your apron
the business suit of the old fashioned woman
you pick me up and place me on the tiles
Usually cold, they're warm in the kitchen's heat
I smile as I draw a tree through the flour
you look down on me and laugh
such warmth and happiness in your smile
that split second of attention, all I needed,
to progress through the cinnamon smelling household
on a day perfect for lying.

The smell of fire was ever fresh on the air, smoke seething in dark grey circles around the sky. Round and round and round, like a patient bird of prey. The concrete bridge felt warm, as if hell lay just beneath its surface. I could remember hearing screams, sounds of shrill shrieking panic. But now... nothing. Nothing but the silent crackle of not so distant flames. I felt warm, feverishly hot. I slowly turned my gaze to my arms, half expecting to see a half blackened skeleton with skin sloughing off by the fistful. I saw soot, soot and sprinklings of ash covered me. I looked like a snowman made in hell. Dante must be laughing right now. The world might be burning down around me right now, but the only thing I could think of- was how badly I wanted to say "boo!" My sheared lungs tried to chuckle- and I instantly regretted it. My body immediately slumped, as if some great god had wistfully flicked it from where it slouched against the bridge in a fit of whimsy. I would have laughed had my throat not suddenly erupted in flame. I swear I could feel the embers dotting my air canal lighting up like fourth of July fireworks. *******. Ouch is a ******* understatement. As the pain slowly started to subside, somewhere within my now crumpled heap of a body I got will power to open my eyes again. My mistake. Not 10 feet from where I lay- curled into my best imitation of a ball- lay the ash coated corpse of sloughed skin and splintered bone that I knew as Anna. I screamed. And this time, the agony couldn't stop me.

First associated with romantic love,
My baby sings a sweet song:
“Away and above”
Innocence cascades from her tender lips,
Trembling.
Fresh, and guileless
She’s December’s snow sprinklings;
Pale, and shamed.
And perfectly lonely
She’s wildly tame.
Her affection spreads to me solely.
Look she’s smiling.
How customary.
Her feelings interior
Au contraire, she
Fell to a man of superior
Strength.
I took her hair in my hand,
Her brickle strands,
Breaking, and
her heart dropped
To the earth and I stomped.

You-

emit a soul i can barely feel 

standing along the precipice 

of touch and wondrous sensation

billowing through my blouse 

tickling my laughter 

aching inside this want

you-

form in the ripples
that pool 
inside my tears

the mist gathering 
within
each tender thought before
morning makes
light of
their melancholy

you-

gravitate in the creamy wisp 

of dreams my heart takes refuge in 

the lines streaked in fancy 

to suggest rather than convey

you-

reside in the wintry mix
of colors
cast as shimmering glitter
in the snow
the smell of distant embers 

trembling in my homesick memory

you-

dwell within the deepest caverns

of my hunger satiating this desire 

with morsels of stars and sprinklings

of moonlight filtered through
the leaves 
of conversation

you-

an enticement

a Luna moth in flight 

the dew on blades of grass

the sustenance of silvery clouds
You