Oddest moments
Tease mercilessly
Caught unawares
Sting of grief
Caught
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Author Archives: aperture
Bloom in the dark
The sweeter the peach
We are linked in a co-evolutionary circle.
The sweeter the peach, the more frequently we disperse its seeds, nurture its young, and protect them from harm.
Food and plants act as selective forces on each other’s evolution – the thriving of one in the best interest of the other.
This, to me, sounds a bit like love.
Robin Wall Kimmerer in Braiding Sweetgrass
Love more
Do everything you can
To tell someone you love them
Even if they don’t understand
Why someone would.
It is a given
That one who struggles
To see themselves
As loveable
Need it more
Than those who
Love themselves more
Than you
Never erased
Tears spilled
Into ink well
Until overflowed
Onto blank page
Of future days
Now never erased
If I'd begged
Bowed down to power
Where would I be now?
Holding the broken limbs
Of my worn out pride
Barely alive
No one knows
Purest secrets of heart
Are always one's own
No prying ear
Or peering eye
Could ever come near
Mystery of mind
Far from critique
No matter how many
Mouths ill speak
Suspicions creep
Upon mere kindness
How often friends
Are lost in mire
No one knows
How love or life grows
Against all odds
Christmas miracles
Each year I gift myself
A new year calendar
Full of native flora
From my chosen homeland
To tempt myself
To go out and explore
To fill each day
An unwritten space
With wonder
A plastic Christmas tree
Or ailing pine struck
From side of road
Does nothing for me
Summer draws you out to
Parade through tracks
Winding into hidden
Vales to find
Berries and blossoms
Winged creatures calling
You into the forest
A place of miracles
Magical moments
Let it bee
Murmuring of nations
Surmised in vibrations
Of one bee
Pang of loss reaches
Extremities diving
Into cool stream
Countless words
Native tongues foreign
Fail to reach ears
Floundering has its moments
Articulating the speechless
Over all these years
Tis the strangest season
Creating new traditions
Out of thin air
For clues I peruse
A loved one's mother's
Poetry book
Counting down the days
Till Santa's sleigh
In haiku
Tickled pink my toes
Wriggle in bed
Family stories never told
I buy the books instead
