Kinship

Butterflies

Two visitors on new treads are we,
Whom live and breathe so differently.
Courteous greetings we do exchange,
Finding each other curious and strange;
You smell of southern breeze and hospitable folk,
I of northern ice and more suspicious looks.
Yet gladly we sup the same nectar dew
And in this spring, we are renewed.
From cocooned sleep we’ve both shed the past
And walk together on a summery path.

Graceful Exits

In my mind I hold the many children
That were friends and foes.
Like Peter, never-changing
They remain.
The vestigial shadows of last year’s flowers —
If I were to find them today:
Only the smell of damp earth.

[Mod Post] The Friends and Followers Award

Patty did the lovely thing of nominating me for The Friends and Followers Award and I’d love to pass it along to people who have also been inspirational and encouraging. Thank you!

The FRIENDS AND FOLLOWERS Award

Rules:
1. Place the award on your blog
2. Thank the blogger who awarded you and follow if you are not already following
3. Nominate a couple of friends who are already following you
4. Let your friends know you have awarded them

My Nominees:
Noora – http://myechoesandreflections.com/
Morgan – http://booknvolume.wordpress.com/
Richard – http://richardankerswrites.wordpress.com/
Himani B – http://tenderheartmusings.wordpress.com/

Mother’s Advice

Here is something I learned from my mother:
Non-acceptable ways of venting anxiety include
Sleeping
Eating
Anger
&
Complaining to friends
But cleaning the house puts not only your home in order
It gives you time to put yourself in order 

The Lost Princess

An empty rhythm
In the castle in the sky
A waltz echoes through deserted halls
The foundation crumbles stone by stone
She who was the princess
Dances alone
Rapunzel-length tresses threaded silver
Sweep over deep indigo and turquoise tiles
No prince comes for her
Neither courtiers nor friends
The music is mummified in her mournful tread

Silent Treatment

I have been knocking on your door
From winter into spring
Through sickness and health
Over the pain of loss and the slow recovery
From those little tragedies that life throws our way
I have been knocking on your door
But I can’t stand here any longer
So I’ll leave a note in my place
And hope to hear your knuckled rasp
Knocking on my door