Two Sizes Too Big

she was born with a heart the opposite of Grinch,
two sizes too big, filling every square inch
of the space beneath her skin,
growing and growing, letting everyone in,
until some Grinch-like hearts exploited,
causing hers to grow walls, to avoid the poison

~photo credit medicaldaily.com

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I Wish…

I see you here most days;
I hope to

I seem to have made it a habit,
coffee, and you

there you sit,
legs crossed, in your well-worn
gray Woodstock t-shirt,
sipping your coffee,
mindlessly scrolling through your phone,
in no hurry

every now and then, you look up to stare,
at everything and nothing at all,
an easy smile for any passer by,
a quiet confidence,
a contentment that’s contagious

and your eyes, oh God,
your warm, deep green eyes with those tiny orange flecks,
remind me of how it used to feel sitting beneath my favorite willow tree on sleepy summer nights

I want to know your name,
I want to feel it roll off my tongue,
a sound as familiar and comfortable
as my favorite, cozy sweatshirt

I want to know what you like for breakfast and how you take your tea,
I want to know when you’re afraid
and when you’re too tired to sleep

I want to recognize your laugh
from across the room,
feel your eyes upon me without even
having to look

I want to know you

I see you,
and I wish you’d see me, too

-image credit Pinterest, poem inspired by image

White Noise

beside me races the brawny river,
Mother Earth’s lifeline cascading from snowy peaks and forcing its winding path
down, down, down,
it’s miracle reaching through the circle of all living things

rippling and licking at the pure mountain air,
it opens and closes its sunlit doors
as it folds and rolls over itself,
kneading and knotting the collective thread of the life it feeds, 
past, present, and future into one connectedness,
while projecting its time-ridiculing ROAR

I feel in my bones,
the reverberation of its irony –

fast, fast, fast,
it flows,
it’s commanding voice reminding me to
slow, slow, slow,
to listen

for we all end up back where we began
if we only
follow, follow, follow

our spirits are ROARING,
the lifelines feeding our souls, 
forging our winding paths,
speaking to us with powerfully pure voices,
ones which are not ever meant to become 
white noise

-image is mine; poem dedicated to my mountain friend; shared as part of dVerse’s open link night

Gifted

there’s a place where there is no sound
where breathing doesn’t exist
and awe is all that courses veins
where nothing unearthly is missed

there’s a place where past collides
with future on prodigious scale
where something larger than ourselves
infiltrates the heart, the holy grail

there’s a place where the soul is still
where oneness with all is felt
and reverence for life and love a’blooms
where once cold has dwelt

oh, Rocky Mountains, high
thank you for gifting my soul
for calling to my dearest friend
who helps to make my heart whole

I’ll miss you both

-photo is mine

Gardening

the sweet glow of summer rests,
ripened to golden on cheeks,
as fastidious fingers tug and pull
that which is not meant
to take root

a curious breeze blows welcomed secrets,
as deliciously sore muscles
and hard-earned sweat
unearth truths once hidden
beneath the now upturned
soil and rocks

anxious leaves rustle a whispered concerto
in the tree tops,
as she gathers herself in handfuls,
piece by organically grown piece,
leaving behind for fertilizer
that which is no longer useful
above ground

and when the work for today is done,
she rests,
under the blue light of the August moon,
ready for the change a’comin’

-image credit Pinterest; shared as part of dVerse Poets Open Link Night; also shared as part of Mindlovemisery’s tale weaver