that's mrs. mediocrity to you

here is the hardest word

not sorry

nor forgiveness

though both are solid rocks
in the shoe of living

but

here

you cannot stay
you cannot leave

you cannot sing yourself away

or back again

from the eternal sunset
of lavender libation

all you can do really

is open

your eyes
your heart
your arms
your mouth

drink it in

inhale

exist beneath this ever

changing

umbrella of now

here

listen

hear it

raining down

.

.

.

(title is from the song “Stand” by R.E.M.)

because

each moment holds its own redemption

each sunrise is a dare

each drop of rain was once a cloud

.

yesterday

this flower slept in a bed of mud

.

but look how pretty it wears

today

.

.

so nice to see you could make it.

.

.

an ending

a beginning

.

all tied up with a beautiful bow

.

It’s raining this morning, a cool rain that calls for windows closed and socks dug out of a drawer I’d prefer not to open until fall.

The kind of rain that, in a perfect world, would also call for curling up on the couch with a light blanket and a good book. But, of course, it’s not a perfect world, and so I will watch it rain while I work and be content with that. More than content, I will be grateful.

Perspective can be such an elusive shadow, flitting in and out of life when you least expect it. But it seems to know when to visit just when you need it most.

So even when I am working around the clock the way I have been lately, even when I’m questioning so much about the way I live my life and not coming up with many answers, even when my back hurts and my hands ache and in truth, I’m feeling a little bit sorry for myself, it’s good to look up every so often.

Today, I say, let it rain.

Eventually, there will be another sunset as lovely as this one, and the right moment to sit there and enjoy it.

But just now, the sky is crying and the basement will flood and I have more work than time.

And all of it is beautiful.

.

the glorious

scent of life

is all around

you

.

i am awash in a sea of pretty pictures
and no one can save me from myself

so i built this tiny boat
from matchsticks and ribbon
with seven layers and five sunsets
and three extra blankets

i don’t collect things anymore
especially dust

and there can’t be two of anything
because i only like odd numbers

but i see everything there is to see
floating in these waves, every color
interspersed with black and white,
all leading to a shore I cannot reach

at least not without stopping
1,457 times to say

how beautiful

.

.

.

.

A poem a day for 30 days, in honor of National Poetry Month.
This post is part of NaPoWriMo. see more here.

::

Describe a moment of beauty that you witnessed this year.

::

so much

of life’s beauty

can be found

dancing

in the

shadows.

::

:

:

{reverb11} check it out here

I stand in the back yard at dawn
and breathe in the color of life.

I am circle, I am square,
I am curve and zig zag.

I hear only sounds of nature,
birds calling,
leaves rustling,
wind whispering.

There are no secrets here,
in this morning.

Everything I see is preparing for winter,
each in its own pragmatic way.

The kiss of frost
kills softly,
softly.

I am hollow.
I am empty.
I am taken.