A Misty Kinda Day

Rain speckled, shrouded in mist, what a gloomy, gray world it is outside my window. It seems more so because I sit snug in my pool of light, with a warm, steaming cup of tea and the buttery sweetness of a tart melting on my tongue. It makes me wonder at the need of sunlight to create warmth.

 The warmth of the dappled sunlight is open, airy, sweet. The shadows are a pleasant, a gentle refuge, from the heat. The warmth of the sunlight sits in the soft curve of the mouth and flows through the rambling musings of the mind, alighting here and there with the gentleness of a butterfly.
Whereas that of a misty day lies in the deep shadows created by the artificial warmth and ambiance of a lamp. It lies in cheating the day of its chores and in the wicked glee of idleness. The warmth of a misty day sits in the corner of the eye and steals through the shadows of the mind, tiptoeing with the stealth of a thief.
The two, as different as night and day. The two, equally delightful, each in its own way.

I have arrived....

Huh! Who would have thought it, that one day I would be savvy enough (and trust me, this is super, to the moon and back kinda savvy for me) to maintain my own blog.
And it is sooooo beside the point that I have to get help from my husband every few minutes on uploading, downloading, finding, placing, posting and all the rest  of the techy what-have-you's (UGH!).
The point is, I am attempting it. And that, my dear friends, is half the battle won dont you think? As for the other half, well, I have my warrior (yes, my husband, my techy half) to fight it for me. Just dont tell him that yet will you? ;)
Hmmm..now what?!

Life?

Life isnt such a mystery
it is quite simply…
a simple little fact.
It’s a little bit of this
and a little bit of that.

From Here On....

Gather that hope
set it free
upon its flight
begin to dream
tie your soul
upon its wings
and reach….
for new beginnings.

Repose

Inch by inch it gained,
his shadow,
and falling full upon me
it demanded
my servility.
But I, not to be subdued
so easily,
feigned ignorance.
The shadow flickered,
amused,
and bending crooked
leaned away
to wait.
But I, not to be outdone
so easily,
feigned apathy.
The shadow shrugged,
gently,
and made to retreat,
leaning closer
to bid adieu.
But I, not to be undone
so easily,
feigned sleep
and fell away..
fell away….

One Man's Acorn is Another Squirrel's Treasure

Under the sun
and its mellow rays
steeped in a book
and its merry chase
I sat lost to this world
and all its ties
when a sudden flurry
caught my eye
looking up
I spied a squirrel
digging furiously
her tail aquiver
and after moments
of this frenzied toil
she stood up straight
beside the upturned soil
her tiny paws
turned daintily down
nose in the air
in her eyes a frown
standing thus
she sniffed out danger
and with beady eyes
scoped for a marauder
but sensing none
she opened her mouth
and dropped an acorn
plump and round
into the hole
with a clunk and a chink
and bent on secrecy
she covered it quick
then blissfully unaware
of a shadow on her treasure
she walked away serene
and seemingly at leisure
to come back one day
when the ground is white
the trees are bare
and not a berry’s in sight.

The Neglected One

I tiptoed quietly past
with a new love held fast
when I imagined a sigh
a resigned roll of eye.
I stopped, I turned
I tamped guilt that churned
for the little edge in white
on the shelf, to the right.
And once more contrition
for this twice owned edition
became the order of the day
and held me in its sway.
Until I flung my new lust
from me in abject disgust
and reached for absolution
in this age old rendition.
With much acute reluctance
I gave her another chance
to charm, to delight
perhaps bring a truth to light.
Revived, in earnest, eager to please
the pages turned with ridiculous ease
awakened in her depths, eager to surprise
she unraveled her truth before my very eyes.
Until quivering she lay
her very soul to bare
and placed in my hands
her palpable web of strands.
And I? I devoured her whole
her words, figures and all
until it wasn’t quite clear
if she was a part of me or me a part of her.

Whimsy

The milky curve of the new moon
frail and aerial,
leans elegantly
over the inky expanse of the sky.
But it is the shadow that draws the eye.
The dense darkness behind the false brilliance.
That which gives him depth,
that which makes him absolute,
standing quiet and still
watching over his shoulder…
Is that his soul that I see?
Is that his truth?

Bicycling Downhill

Ribbons of gleeful mirth
danced in the air
curled around our ears
and tangled in our hair..
Floating over the fence
that failed to hold us in
they hovered over the blades
where the merry crickets sing..
And flickering past the giants
that filtered the mellow light
they chased us down the hill
weaving…
with our hoots of delight.

Joy

In the center of my being
is where it begins
a little knot of love
unfurls its wings
and the echo of its beat
ripples through me so
it drowns my heart
and touches my soul.

Beginning

And dawn breaks
in grey downy softness
and with its gentle murmur
that precedes the day
flirts..
with the black edges
of my consciousness
intruding..
stirring life within
and without.

Rainwashed

A spring morning, rainwashed,
I gazed rapturously
at the vivid green of young leaves
against the wet dark bark
of the majestic trees.
The eternal circle came to mind,
of cessation and re-birth,
of gently burgeoning hope
after moments of crushing despair.
A heavy expectant silence
weighted down the air
as if the Universe,
spent from the downpour
lay dormant in repose,
meditative,
gathering her strength once more
to surge up with tremendous vitality
in a manifestation of vigorous spring.
The rain loosened soil
lay moist and pliant under my feet
and from it arose
a heady, earthy fragrance
and heavy in its fullness
it climbed langurously upwards,
wrapping itself around me
and through my breath,
coming to rest lightly
on the tip of my tongue.
I closed my eyes,
and stilled my self.
I rooted my feet firmly
digging my toes deeper into her cool softness
and upon feeling the pull of affinity,
I let her wash through me,
her moment becoming one
with mine…
Until I too…..
was just as rainwashed.

Stillness

Oh! Sweet languor!
of melting bones and heavy tread,
how sweetly still your cocoon.
Even the sun takes a moment
from his mighty haste between prospects
to idly linger and paint my eyelids
with soft, warm fingers.
And the travelling breeze,
who gathers unto herself
the sweet sounds and scents of spring
delivers them to my notice, gently,
with a hushed reverence,
mindful of my quietude.
But how laughable is this notion of languor.
Because I too, in my deceptive stillness,
move forward,
imperceptibly yet inevitably forward
in time and thought.

An Encounter of the Spidey Kind

I rushed down the steps
as is my wont to do
when a tiny little spider
I did run into.
Precariously strung
dangling overhead
there, he was quite literally
hanging by a thread.
Who was more surprised
I am sure I could not say
as in a smooth acrobatic move
we both swayed away.
But such is the pendulous law
that we swayed back into each other
and for the space of a single heart beat
we took stock of one another.
And I swear by all that is holy
he seemed to wave and he said ‘hey’
then he went up, I continued down
and we each went our merry way.

Young Love

Young love
like petals unfolds
rosy pink upon the cheek
kindling sensations untold
within the breast
of the lover who beholds
his beloved in her first spring.

A Wintry Walk

Soft snowy dust
swirls around in gusts
dancing…
on the cold night breeze;
Old trees, bent
under the frosty weight,
reach their ghostly limbs
gnarled and twisted,
as if to seize
the lone figure
that walks the stark road
feet trudging, faltering,
chilled to the bone;
A paltry light
from a meager lantern
engulfs the figure
in a deceptive cocoon
and where the light fades
darkness begins
and stretches away
into the night
without relief.

All That Glitters

The ruby red cardinal
through my heart sends a lance
but the poor brown sparrow
stands not a chance..
not a chance…
The cardinal’s desultory beauty
holds me in a trance
while the quiet little sparrow
suffers but a passing glance..
With what pretty speech we say
all that glitters is not gold
even as our roving eyes do betray
it is so…
it is so…