I don't feel well today Reverberating echos of broken dreams Aching pervasive guilt Persistent pointless hope That will not stay snuffed out Nothing is wrong And I hurt just the same
I don't feel well today The sun still rose in a misty pink sky The flowers are blooming and busy with bees Birds sing songs of spring awakening Amongst the newly sprouted leaves Nothing is wrong And I hurt just the same
I don't feel well today Warm afternoon sunlight dries tears That slip from beneath my sunglasses The world assaults my senses Too loud, bright, fast Nothing is wrong And I hurt just the same
I don't feel well today I am told that time heals That I'm doing the right things That I didn't cause it I can't control or cure it Nothing is wrong And I hurt just the same
Curtains of branches and leaves cascade to the ground Creating a sanctuary for childhood dreams beneath The somber sway of weeping willows Hides from common eyes the magical worlds they held for me I made friends of willow trees The trees of my childhood spoke to me They greeted me every time I played in their park There are less of them today But a few still stand Providing mystical playgrounds for new children I wave hello to those trees when I pass them by Hoping they remember the little girl who loved them so well And always will
Warm lazy afternoons in late summer Hazy and tea-colored at the golden hour Dragonflies dancing through the tall grass While crickets hum contentedly Air scented with summer earth And hints of coming autumn rain The world readying for sleep Eagerly awaiting the slowing of things
How I love a blue-gray sky Hanging heavy above a blue-green sea Or a sky of vibrant summer blue Filled with the white puffs of lazy clouds How about the velvet blue of a midnight sky Glittering with silver stars The enchanted pastel painted skies of dawn Dressed in pinks and sherbet oranges Or better yet the jeweled-toned shows of sunsets at the closing day Painted with deep reds and purples and burning oranges The sky's moods are all so beautiful
My curls dance around my face As the wind kisses my cheeks rosy These are the winds of change Smelling of hope and promise Action and evolution The wind sings dreams of change to me It pulls at my skirts Kisses goosebumps onto my skin Willing me to move my feet Daring me to take a chance Toward unwritten promise I toss on my sweater Pick up my notebook Tamp down my hat And walk toward the unknown Wind cheering at my back Celebrating the changing of everything
Deep gray clouds cover the sky like a heavy blanket Rain drums relentlessly on the shiny gray asphalt The world is a tapestry of gray Gray is beautiful
This is the glory of rainy days They leave the world to its quiet contemplation Its deep introspection Rain cleanses more than the greater world It penetrates into the soul And washes away the dust of living
Rain awakens a simple joy With renewal and rejuvenation The meditation of raindrops on glass Droplets colliding into each other Reflecting the world in a new perspective while Drawing meandering paths across glittering window panes
The first spring rain falls from a darkened sky Washing away the heaviness from the air Bringing deliverance of spirit Offering itself as balm for my weary heart Through its steady patter beyond my open window Petrichor rising to ground me Cool and damp air greeting too hot skin I close my eyes Imagining my complete surrender to it Making an offering of all that scars me All that weighs so heavily on my shoulders I welcome this renewal This forgiveness This peace I invite this healing Surrender to this gentleness Allow this act of cleansing Readying my world to reawaken Readying me to bloom again
I'm not a morning person But I love the Maxfield Parrish skies of dawn Pink and purple watercolor brush strokes Across a robin's egg blue sky Golden light gilding every cloud in radiant luminescence Pastel magic painted across the heavens Suspending breath through awe Arresting the rush and rattle of morning routines With the beauty of nature's majesty I will gladly pour a cup of coffee in the wee hours If I get to enjoy a front row seat for such an art show
Words Wishes and Wisdom 