Friday, March 22, 2024

Tapestry

Ive been weaving my words
for you, gathering
living threads of laughter and pain,
of loss and growth,
of real dreams and dreamed realities.
I
ve been weaving hurt and joy and hope
into a tapestry of all my love
for you.

 


photo by Yannick Pulver, on Unsplash

  for Poets and Storytellers United (Friday Writings #119: In Memoriam)


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)