Thursday, March 14, 2024

In this Story, Nature Soothes My Aches

not-quite Journaling, 66

2/8/2024: I might’ve spent the last hour ogling Ms. Amaryllis. Fine, I was doing my lymphatic draining massage while the ogling went on, but… I still wonder if she’s considering whether or not I’m a creep. What say you, Ms. Amaryllis? She’s not saying much. Maybe she’s just the sensuously silent type. 🤔

 

Steel cut oats
on a snowy day,
hot and sweet
memories blooming
delight on my tongue.

2/13/2024: I’m waiting for Nature to stop frosting New York City, before going to explore the woods. For now, let the exploration be of oats, cinnamon, nutmeg, raw sugar, roasted pecans… and a favorite story.

 

small magics
keep a wintered soul warm
until spring


more photos here

2/22/2024: I woke up to gut-crushing pain. You know, the sort of agony that curls your body in a whimpering ball and shrouds your skin in cold sweat?  After hours of tests (and loudly creative language), I got to go for a walk. Nature (knowing I was having a crappy day) gifted me with glimpses of snow and berries bedecking holly, hellebore and periwinkle springing through the cold, and a few minutes of sunlight on a cloudy day. The pain remains at rather nasty levels, but Nature’s gifts make the torture not matter so very much.   

 

In this story, the woods eat my aches.

3/7/2024: New York City has been in a rainy mood. I haven’t been able to go for a stroll in days. It’s cloudy but rainless now. So, on my walk back from the hospital, I cut through the woods. Every step was balm for muscle, bone, spirit… The sight of extra verdant moss, mushrooms, crocuses, hellebores, periwinkles, and budding daffodils was high quality smile-fuel. The sun is supposed to come out tomorrow. I think I’ll go for a run… All right, it’ll be more like a walk/jog. Still, it’ll be glorious. 

 

“I love amaryllis because they are plump and juicy.
They feel like spring even in the middle of winter.”
~
Jonathan Adler

more photos here

 

Were I snow, I would fall on you
gently--caressing, coating

warming winter-kissed limbs
until spring blossoms.

 Light and love and lust are in the air. Spring is coming…
🌸🥰🌸

 

for Poets and Storytellers United (Friday Writings #118: Strange Springs)


Wednesday, February 28, 2024

Cackles and Endings

You wear wings, I wear wild.
Your soul whispers of endings,
my spirit cackles at the moon.
We dance unlived dreams
real--in them, you
never drive your life away
and I scribble
no tears.

Today is the 11th anniversary of my little brother’s death. My heart is heavy with memories and music and food and laughter and tears… I’ve heard people say that grief lessens with time, but I think that’s just a well-meant lie. The shock and pain (and the way we deal with them) evolve, but the sorrow remains raw. Say his name with me today: Gregory Guerrero. He loved music (bachata and reggaetón); he loved food (rice and beans and carne guisada); he loved helping people (even when they didn’t deserve it); he got in trouble often; he laughed with his entire heart and his joy was contagious… I miss him.


photo by Tim Mossholder, on Unsplash
 
for Poets and Storytellers United (Friday Writings #116: Lasting Impressions)