When the Sun Sets Later

The days are getting longer

Stirring in me a longing

For warmth

Lazy evenings on the porch

Swathed in orange and pink

As the red sun sets

And the evening star bids farewell

To the light and noise

And I, with drink in hand,

Raise a toast to the blessed darkness

That does not bring cold

Only peace and rest

And the release of words on the blank page

If Only

If I had known
Been free to know
The simplicity of God
I would have danced through life
Eyes wide open
Singing with the music
Flowing through my fingertips.

If I had known
Been free to know
The beauty of myself
I would have laughed through life
Heart wide open
Painting with sure strokes
The mysteries unveiled through my fingertips.

Choices

Cold fingers on the keyboard

Head turned to the window

The chill from outside seeping through

Reaching into my sweater

The birds dart from feeder to branch

Swift movements I recognize

My thoughts everywhere but inside

Breathe deeply

Slowly

Consciously

Make the decision-

I will like myself today.

Dancing

Human desires
Rend my restraint
Beaded chains bind
Tension, distress
All unravels
In the face of unfettered
Dance.

Written after watching a stage production of "Dancing at Lughnasa."

Warmth

There is something so welcoming and familiar in the first really warm day of Spring. An interior awakening takes place that is reflected all around us. In Flagstaff, that first day is usually followed by more winter, with Spring not really setting in until May. But that feeling that has stirred will not be put back to rest. The cycle of rebirth. We were not meant to be stagnant. When we are connected to our environment, we have the opportunity to share in the joy and the rhythm of the dance as we embrace the desire for stretching forth from our dormancy and experience new life.

Sleepless

Sleepless

In the late hours

Wrapped comfortably in my thoughts

Lulled by the rhythm of sleet hitting the roof

I let myself feel cold.

Knowing

I am an ancient tree
Foliage thick and green
Boughs reaching to the sky
With well-worn paths
Leading to and from.

Sitting in the soft loam
Tracing his hand
Along the familiar pattern of bark
He closes his eyes, rests his head
And dreams of me.

Breathing

To find silence
Amidst this life
A hushed embrace
Deep sigh
Sweet rest
Soft rain
Gentle breeze
The caress of one who knows
And looks with understanding on a deep grief.

Oh- to share that grief.