i know where to find doors, i have a room full.

exit.
entrance.

Some with milk glass panes, others with brass hinges and handles,
others
all cracked lead paint,
lonely reminders
of long-ago spaces.

I have had the monarch dream, I have brewed
the butterfly medicine and reaped its nectar reward.

born on the pyre, woman formed of ash and bone.

exit.
entrance.

listen to the flutter that presses softly within your skin.
I can take you back to the garden, hushed place.
the moon flower blooms in the quiet star light.

those light drenched days, the herb garden scent.
sitting in the shade sipping sun tea, listening to the crunch
of tires coming slowly down the gravel road.

glowing flowers
in twilight.

my frog voice unstoppered, pouring out into the rain -
frankincense, myrrh and gold; these whispered words.
this ancient song.

locked down, but never bound.
wings broken,
mended,
found.

in a pink tub,
I was drowned.

alone, rose colored glasses.
golden hour.

exit.
entrance.

begin again.

lightening bugs rise.
laughter.
velvet night.

shush, hush, hug.
starry night.
held tight,
soon, the warm will wind.

a stringer full of fish.
a sky full of wish.

cicada moon.

exit.
entrance.

she is alone,
aglow
in angel embrace.

tree, fields stretch.
whippoorwill echo.
quiet waves,
on quiet water.

our lake,
our entrance.

begin,
again.