When You’re Leaf-full
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| orange trees from the orange grove where my husband was raised, Yorba Linda CA. |
Ready to Make Friends with Poetry? ⟶
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| orange trees from the orange grove where my husband was raised, Yorba Linda CA. |
We’ve been informed we are flying at 29,000 feet (approximately) above the face of the Earth, suspended (how? by speed, lift and whatnot) like a moving planet jettisoned in a line moving at the speed of sound (light?). Refreshments are served, secured with invisible payments traveling via plastic and magnets swiped by staff standing still…
They shimmer and sway in the breeze branchy partners against a Danube blue sky. Glassy diamonds on the green– arrow fragments, light glimmering in an anthem song. The play a tune for my eyes, loudly announcing the beauty of dusk, a message in light music reflecting in emerald on the velvet evening. The leaves bend…
F a l l in g in love…
I stray like string in the wind untethered from that tight spot at the bottom holding me in place. Anchored there tension provides strength for the tune to be played– a fiddler bows across the tautness and chords are plied, played as His fingers hold me in place. Snapped, tho’, the string aflutter, undone there…
“Stretch” must be a biblical word, regardless of one’s age (an extension, a straining) like a two-year-old reaching on tiptoes towards her Father, not unlike the discomfort of unfolding old bones and well-used knees, joints so stiff they’ve forgotten how to bend. I want to stress and press past the comfortable,groan with the growing, the knowing that dailyI must…
Scattered seeds, scattered me strewn across the landscape like the leftovers of an exploded fruit. Full of me, I dropped the pieces here and there along the way without the time to STOP and listen. Father, retrieve my prayers. Draw around them the frame of your love. Gather them, grow them hold them……share with me,…