that's mrs. mediocrity to you

Sometimes, serendipity is a beautiful thing.

It was a long week, a tough week, filled with learning new things, lots of work and a migraine that just wouldn’t quit. In fact, it’s still hanging around on the periphery. Pfft.

But in many ways, it was just another week, and I survived and today I am going over to my parent’s house with my brother and sister to help with a home improvement project.

So, I got up not knowing what I was going to post today, feeling a little logey (a word of my dad’s that always cracks me up), and I stumbled across this post on my facebook feed. I went and read it right away, because trust me, you never want to miss debi’s words (seriously, go now and read), and her post resonated with me so deeply and as I was reading I remembered this photo and suddenly, here I am.

I am just a bird. Not even a rare one, just a blackbird on a pole looking up at that big sky.

And yet, I can fly.

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Here’s to the birds.

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(Thanks, debi.)

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taller than i

reaching for sky

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in this crazy busy week that’s kept me working

head down, shoulders hunched

these stems

waving outside my window

are keeping me in smiles

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when you can laugh at your own insignificance
then you begin to understand

the world turns and you turn with it
we are all cogs and we are all stars

it was never your job to be a beautiful flower
but always your promise to set seed

the future is a rhyme you cannot hear
written from the way you stand today

refuse to cower
refuse to break
refuse to be defined

the sky is the mirror of forgiveness
there is no reflection and no
perfect light

you can grow in the darkest of corners
stretch yourself out
be alive in the paradox of possible

the wind will take you
or you will melt back into
earth’s wide open arms

the rain will cleanse you
not of your sins
but at least of the dust you carry

the sun will burn you
and the moon will steal pain
from the beauty of your wounds

tomorrow is only an idea

and you’ve already had plenty
of those

hang on
hang on

let go

the release
will be

your nirvana

your white knuckles
have always
been bone

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Linking up with the fabulous dVerse poets for Open Link Night – join us!

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from both sides now

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it’s all beautiful

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and i am basking in her glow.

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and you climb on the back of that beast
without hesitation
singing some song about how good
always conquers evil

and i admire your tenacity

wanting to sing along with you

but some days i see darkness
everywhere i look

and it’s not even hidden
sitting right out there in the open
like a mouse on the edge of the road

and the hawk, the hawk is not evil
only hungry

and the storm, the storm is not evil
only angry

and the fire, the fire is not evil
only out of control

and the sky, the sky keeps returning

holding me down, tethered
even as i threaten to fly off the handle

there are always three doors
and i can never choose

no light creeps in
beneath those cracks

but that’s never true, really

there is always light
there is always darkness

the yin and yang of sanity
are always intertwined

two lovers on a bed of redemption

clinging to the light that pulls

delivers

offers up
the sacrificial shadow

and then you are gone

white horse

red cape

floating melting drifting

into an almost

invisible

sunset

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Linking up with the fabulous dVerse poets for Open Link Night – join us

i stand here wondering

(wandering)

about now and the clarity
of a chrysanthemum

grounded and brimming with growth

what it would be like to live so simply

sun water soil
and perhaps wind
to worry about

and those creepy things that eat at you
leaving holes to let the air whistle through

i have no answers

(pondering)

but i am just as fine with that
as the clove scented rose

clinging to a vine no one wants to climb

growing hips (ha!) for fuel and tea

so much stronger than the
colored bits of beauty
you sniff around

thorn and cane build bud and blossom
roots wrap fingers around earth’s core

i stand here

(wondering)

And they never fail to make me smile, these ultra-smooth birds that somehow seem a bit more sophisticated than all our other feathered friends.

It took time to get them here, first I planted mulberries, and then the elderberry patch. These days, they are regulars.

If you had told me thirty years ago that I would be a gardener and a bird watcher, I’m sure I would have laughed. If you’d told me I would plant trees and bushes to try to lure cedar waxwings to my yard, I probably would have snorted (right after I asked what a cedar waxwing is).

But both birds and my garden have become part of my daily life, offering joy and rhythm and and a presence I am constantly learning from.

Life lessons.

Patience. Acceptance. Being present.

And how to fall in love with the sky.

My own small way to fly.

you were whispering something about vestibules
and i kept staring at the cloud that
reminded me of promises

music played softly in the corner of reprieve
but my feet stayed restless and
the anklet i wore like a young gypsy girl
jangled with pale pink impatience

you circled that white elephant for hours
pretending to ask for forgiveness
with a smile that’s always loaded

because you know how much i need deliverance
even as we both admit it is never yours to offer

and i kept throwing shiny bits to the curb
gifts for crows to covet, gather, hoard
this ring, that sequin, those tomorrows

your voice in my ear was a sunset of description
and i had nothing but rhyme to gift in return
but you kept wrapping and i kept smiling
at those clouds always changing

ever dancing

mirror making

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Ripe with possibility.

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