spring ~ you bring me back to the essence ~ reflecting pool of life ~

the wick is rising and i have made it through the snow drift and into the daffodil day.

i have been down long roads, i have cried rivers . . . i have clung to the tree as the roaring water tried to tear me away.








i have known dark things, i have been on the inside of the darkest hearts ~








i have learned, that when we give into the river tide and travel to ocean wave.  we are reborn in our tears and in our willingness to cry.  come with me, it is the promised journey, it is the ultimate adventure ~ it is life, as we make it.







and then, you will find a miracle ~ you will feel your heart beat and you will know what that means ~ you will know where you belong, you will find your home.  it is always as close as your very own heart.







only from the honey comb heart, can the universe be explored.







and we are re-made and re-imagined.







So then, as the stars hum, i will say "¡eh, quit your job and run away with me to Santiago" ~~










and on Sunday morning, I will fry thick-cut, apple-smoked bacon and make you  . . .













and then we will love each other, forever, because we won't even care . . . . other than each for the heart of the other.









we will dance into the future, because there will be nothing else left to do.













then we will sleep, exhausted and full of dreaming








then wake








and i will know that i am beautiful and that you are beautiful and that life is frightening, and grand and gorgeous.













and because i just can't help it . . . i am a seriously a serious woman.












then i will feel into the base of my spine, and wish my wings into being and i will turn the stars, arms open and i will go home.











hope you are enjoying the journey into spring, into the center of your heart . . .



life and music and dancing and loving, laughing and crying, because then ~

it is the snow globe tip,
topple into warm heart,
the whisper and the warning.

i put the silver bowl,
on the turning wood table.

my brandy and your wine.

berries from the to-be garden.

taking sips from the morrocan

glass.

gold, turquoise zellige,
night flower silence,
hope-filled fragrance.

turn my hands, i will tell you the time.

i can grow you some thyme, and make
you taste the coming.

i have a way with seeds,
the soil, and the quiet
way of growing things.

i have torn down the wall, and found
the leather book we are concealing.

walk with me into the firefly night,
we will share secrets through the
cicada moon silence.

when i first found you, you
 did not know my house ~
i tied a tartan scarf
around an old shovel,
standing in the snow drift,
 it called you to my door.

now my door,
your door,
the same door.

open me, remember me,
 hold me in your heart,
while i soar through
blue sky days.