Seasons

How sad,

this poor little blog,

lying so alone and neglected.

It's not that I don't have the words,

they never leave me.

Like Easter,

they come around again and again.

Spilling out of my heart

like some holy psalm of love.

We've been painting,

you see,

room after room after room.

In my heart,

there are the spaces reserved


for these silent times

the blank pages in my head that I fill day after day.

Sometimes it just takes a solitary comment to

fill my arms with wild ,

wind blown anemones,

red threads scattered;

like rubies in a clear stream.

This is for you,

for being a treasured keepsake in my life.

A locket of love worn gently on my skin.

For reminding me

that what I write,

reaches you.

And when the moon splinters

into a thousand shining stars

I'll remember.



Happy Easter dears