smallness

as i awake with the first pink light, i open myself up to the story of the day.

it awaits and lies ahead of me with its hustle through the making and the taking and the finishing up.  

it is our last day at the fair. . .
and the small things just make me remember that i am not alone.

and when the sun sinks low, later, beneath the landline of green. . .
when i walk down the hallway to my candlelit room (the power outages have made me sleep romantic.  bwahahaha!),

i look behind me and see the day as it was,  not always as i wish it had been, 
and with the openness i always know and have,

i bring out the honesty with which i live by,
and admit to my disappointments,
my regrets,
and my mistakes.

those burdens will not sleep with me in my bed, not tonight (naaah, i would rather have my warm quilt and my soft pillows to sleep with.  bwahahaha!  a warm human being once in a while would be great, tho.  bwahahaha!). . .
i release them into the hands of the force before me, 

and as i turn out the light,
i am calmed down with the thought that even as i sleep,
the force weaves redemption and healing into my soul. . .

ilysm!  i know you know it!  bwahahaha!  ♥ ♥ ♥ 
 

bounty

i walk down the path, now green with tamed grass
and lined with marigold,

buds shyly peeping and looking out,
as if checking and looking for some occasional stray wanderers.

the occasional rain drenches and quenches,
lets me drink thirsty the dew from the heavens.

i walk further and meet and hold and get wildly soul-fat on this god-land.
i am full to the brim!

at the end of the path, i feast long and late on the richness of it all.

and as i embrace the sight, and wonderment, 
let me be grateful for the bounty, and the joy it brings me.

 

i need no more. . .

thank you!  ilysm!  i know you know it. ♥ ♥ ♥
 

liking my own skin

i look closely, too closely, i can see the pores on my skin, the grey in my hair, the lines on my smile. . .but i like them all, anyway.

i like the way i was made, the way i wear my skin,

the way i like to open up my windows and let the sun through the greens,
the way i love to listen to the early morning chirps and tweets (no snores to bear with, hallelujah!)

the way i listen to my music on my phonograph, which keeps me standing and walking to and fro.
i like the dusty stack of books that i meant to read

and the wanderings i do at used books stores and thrift stores on any day mornings.

i like the way i tick and the way i tock and the way i am not like anyone else,
and my kind of different is good.

i like the way i do not do life like others and the way i perfectly fit
because i am so wondrously, happily, astonishingly me.

this weekend, all my wanderings were in the comfort of my skin, the way it was made to fit me.
my compliments to my maker.

thank you for taking me in as i am.  ilysm!  ♥ ♥ ♥

a gift on a friday

the light at my windows goes through the twigs and branches of the ficus that embraces my side of the house.

it draws me out to the balcony like a lover, an invitation to delight in the enchanting beauty of the crack of dawn.

always, light is the start and the beginning.  and i know it all goes well, still.

you invite me into a celebratory and triumphant love song every morning, at each and every opening of every ordinary, mundane day.

and suddenly, after the cloud of gloom obscured one shining truth, everything becomes extraordinarily amazing!

thank you for the beaming and radiant gift i got this friday morning.

i know you know each and every tear i shed.
and i know you will walk me through.

ilysm, i know you know it.  ♥ ♥ ♥

everything i need

because i have my garden,
because i have you,
i have everything.
thank you.  ilysm!

 

promising

standing out there in the ecosophia garden, i watch and see the leaves offer up like bunches of bouquets. . .

and i listen for the calm, soft and hushed quiet.  i swear, i can hear them flourishing, blooming, promising!

the peanuts made daring revelations, the corn grew new and audacious leaves, the spring onions, too.

the tomato flowers made promises. 

 the string beans unfolded bold hope.

the radishes show their roots, with honesty ajar, gaping, waiting for the rains.

the seeds we have sown. . .make us wait with utmost faith.
and standing there still, in a world of growing all around me, i see how the harvest would come.

and i wait fot the fruit of humble truth.

and the yield of a quiet, steady grace.

for this weekend, i am grateful for the promises these blooms bring.  and i know you keep good them.  

thank you!  and ilysm!  bwahahaha! ♥ ♥ ♥ 

standing

with all that is going on in the fields, the greens now turn to different shades of emerald, jade, olive, lime and sea. . .

i stand my ground, firm, fixed and resolved.  

i do not hold back, restrain or hesitate, i never do.

i throw myself into the work, confident, sure and certain. . .

that nothing i do for him is a waste of time and effort.

for this weekend, i am grateful for knowing where i am standing.

thank you for the greens on the ground i walk on. ilysm. . .i know you know it.  ♥ ♥ ♥