Snow, a Quadrille 

once, her world sagged 
under the weight of the storm 

today, the storm is finally receding;
rain’s long, wet fingers caress,
hope falling in chilly droplets,
cleansing in goosefleshed trails 

there is something peaceful about her,
as if snow has settled inside her soul

-image via Pixabay; created and shared as part of dVerse’s Quadrille Monday

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I Am

I am torrential rain in dreary drought,
and clear skies on the darkest days

I am the smell of black coffee at dawn’s breaking,
and rocking chairs in the autumn breeze

I am shady trees on mountainous trails,
and the song of paddles splash-pushing in the river

I am sunlight warming salt-licked skin,
and moonlight washing over gooseflesh 

I am rosy-cheeked memories,
and hope-filled daydreams 

I am the light in your eyes,
and the marrow in your bones 

I am hard-earned wisdom,
and success in the trying 

I am evolution, 
and one day at a time

I am not perfect,
but I am yours

I am forever, 
if you’ll have me

-image via Pixabay

More Than Skin Deep

she wears her heart on her sleeve,
even when she tries not to –
her hurt carved into her young flesh,
and her happy shimmering like sparklers
in her deep green eyes

she listens and observes;
she absorbs

she knows things,
even when she doesn't want to know

she overflows,
because she feels more than
what will ever fit inside
the boundaries of her skin

she yearns to forgive,
and love herself

she wants to know you,
she wants to know how you love

she is a girl who teaches the world
what beautiful is

-image via Pixabay

Hope’s Garden

she spent years pushing away
the things she wanted more than anything;
wanting them too much scared
the hell out of her,
because sometimes people lose themselves
in wanting too much, 
at least, that's what she thought, 
that's what she'd learned

but the only way to know, 
the only way to find out, was to leap,
to want something so badly,
it nearly made her crack with hope,
to risk,
to grab on with both hands,
plant it in the center of her heart 
and see if it blooms

so, she planted,
and planted 

she found out that she didn't lose herself
in the wanting, not at all;
she found herself in the hope

for, in hope, was her truth

-image via Pixabay

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