teeny tale: whisked away

stepping outdoors, exposed, onto the emptied slab of asphalt, the blistery breeze welcomed her back to life with a swift burst, and a shove of assurance that it was right to move forward. every fragile piece of her became nature’s raw ingredients, to mix and swirl, to create what it wished. her tamed tousles were easy prey, pulled apart, played with, and set back in a merry mess atop her head. & she thought if only it were strong enough to pick her whole self up & whisk her away for playtime in a far distant land for a short while before returning her gently to the ground, back to reality, but with an overall head-in-the-clouds, gleeful sheen.

teeny tale: cosmic collision

he turned, arms outstretched, presenting his cupped hands before her. what do you have inside there? she asked. a whole lot of everything. it's my world; i want to share it with you. & with eyes sparkling like the brightest stars, she grabbed half of his "world" and enclosed it in half of hers. & it was the best cosmic collision they'd ever experienced.

teeny tale: live it up

she had been told many times to "live it up." but it wasn't until the day she dropped the moments that were had behind her, let the moments waiting to be had run free ahead & allowed the moment she was in to saturate the liquid life that ran inside her that she finally gave those words the meaning they deserved. & from that day on, her heart proclaimed its thanks for relieving the weight of the past and the pressure of the future; it was happiest pumping for the now.

happy halloween!

teeny tale: beauty mark

it was one of those autumn days found in dreams but often never had: the aroma of brown sugar swirling with adrift leaves, torsos jacketless, legs shielded lightly by pantyhose; it’s too warm for tights. she welcomed the day with an overly confident smile, hair bouncing, skirt floating, a twirl came on, & as her downward gaze began to travel up, a gasp. the opaque fabric clinging to her thighs revealed a speck. with a flick of her middle finger she aimed, determined to defeat. but the “speck” was not a speck at all, not fuzz, nor a smidge of dirt, rather a beauty mark—not a freckle; freckles are for faces. & she thought how silly she was for wanting to flick away her beauty. & as that thought began to dissipate with a shake of her head, something landed lightly upon her bare arm. instead of giving a sudden jerk—as she most certainly would have done at any other given time—she warded off the protective urge & slowly cranked her head right, then down. there atop her dewy skin, a ladybug sat. beginning to crawl she knew she ought to wish for something soon…but instead of waiting for the moment to pass, she enjoyed the seconds she had in it. besides, she already felt lucky knowing that not only could her beauty not be flicked off, it also could not grow wings and fly away.

Chickadee

On this first crisp morn.

Her breathe sits, udisguised without warmth.

Her destination plotted with each crunch.
Left. Right.

The open air droops, heavy, lacking song.

Chicka dee dee dee dee dee.

          Chicka dee dee dee dee.

Her songbird had taken flight, black-capped, into the fallen night.

And so she waits.

For the return of a steeper angle.

For her breathe to be taken by brilliance.

For his song to fill the emptiness hang       

                               ing     air.

                                 in the  

Passing Love Notes

I once dared to touch her frosted locks,

Cascading around the rocks that were her shoulders.

A flow of copious curls.

Not knowing the work I’d undo,

All with a single stroke.

The untouchables remained so.

Tight.

Together.

She had set them just right.

The way she set my clothes out each night.

Clean.

Crisp.

Plain, but brand new.

Lunchbox notes read “I love you,”

And the second-hand jeans around her hips

The years worn on her shoes--

"Notes" undetected by a child’s eye.

A room full of plastic perfection.

Dolls with skirts hemmed with lace,

And long, threads of golden curls unbrushed.

Her reality allowed for the make-believe life I knew.

teeny tale: invisible

wishing she were invisible so her thoughts would be, too. because everything she thought she wore on her face, & she was tired of having to explain herself for the things she never said.

close your eyes. make a wish. and...

And you.

There’s something about the corner of a wrap-around porch that makes you feel like you're sitting at the edge of the world.
And the way the willows shake their leafy hips in the breeze that makes you feel like dancing.
And the smell of a wood fire that warms you, even though its flame is out of sight.
And how a hand resting upon your lap rests upon your heart.