Enjoy It

It's time to stop and rest
by the hushed rustling rhythm of
blades of grass alongside the stream

To let this soft cascade of breath
carry away all the sharp edges of this life
and tickle the small hairs on my bare neck

There will be plenty of time to worry and plan
but right now it is spring and I am in love
these are the moments I've prayed for

So hush this racing heart and mind
surrender to the sensation of warm water
slowly submerging supple limbs in thick bliss

There is no where else I have to be
this is it, stop holding your breath
pause beneath the open sky of affection

These tender moments can take away the pain
let yourself have this mindful medicine
that future you've been hurrying to is here 

It's okay to enjoy it

Staying Present While Moving Forward

Preoccupied, I grasp at air
trying to halt the passage of time
the sickening, consistent tick, tick, tick
that makes my heartbeat quicken
tearing me away from where I am now

I want to be so fully present that
I can use these moments as patches
to protect me in that future I fear
collecting up all my small treasures
to remind me this life has been a blessing

There is no avoiding human suffering
and I haven't yet had my fair share
I have to learn to carry this cringing resistance
while still enjoying the sticky leaves of spring
while still soaking up love and sunlight

The best preparation is practicing peace
and expanding my capacity for gratitude
with every sip of precious cool water
resting in the sweet stirrings among the trees
and observing the cyclical life of the hillsides

Long Walks in Spring

There is a healing, humming hush
that rustles through the tall grass
on long walks along the littered roadside

The rising vibration of returning life
as we circle back toward the outstretched arms
of the sun that has kept us waiting with held breath

Bringing inspiration that flows in with the warm air
through the open window's billowing white curtains
lifting old dust motes out of corners and into the light

This soft atmosphere makes it easy to forgive
and gently set aside the harsh bleak days of December
making space for the fresh growth of wonder and wildflowers

Look Up

Spring beginnings are bittersweet
a rotting smell rises with the heat
roadside carcass baked in sun
kept from hoping for what's to come

Backward glances, Jack Frost's shadow
the direction you face is where you'll go
the cruelty of youth is turning away
from sorrow, sickness, and slow decay

Life's still blooming, the sun persists
the trees don't wonder what they've missed
each breeze carries the powder of new pollen
raindrops don't resist where they've fallen

Spring Respite

The full-bodied scent of fresh cut grass
starts to lighten the heavy eyelids of this
child's soul that has lied slumbering in frost
shaking snowflakes from thick lashes
cells expanding as the air heats up

Everything tastes better in summer
soft air, sweet fruit, and salty skin
hearts peel open suddenly in the sunlight
like the fresh blossoms spilling pollen
tender petals ready to receive the sky

Colorful carousel of familiar sensations
the day's reluctant, yet sensual surrender
as the night descends in a slow simmer
igniting the thorny hillsides into whispers
the hushed murmur of a million voices

Sleep comes easier when the sun has returned
store away those sacred escapes somewhere safe
Bright Eyes songs and novels by Charles Dickens
David Copperfield tucked away beneath pillow cases
life supports reserved for when the air grows thin again

For now it's easy to breathe more deeply
the atmosphere is thick like honey and just as sweet
another new life christened with lavender winds
wondering how those slinking shadow talons
always tore so sharply at untanned skin

Feeling Soft

Everything was soft inside of me again
the sunlight pierced my unfurling soul
a sudden opening of the vacuum sealed air
encircling my swimming, distorted thoughts
my heart burst open, there was space to breathe

Fragile reflections in water droplets
held together by microscopic tension
pressing softly into fresh hues of green
the sensual humming silence that rises
in anticipation of a new dawn

Subtly shifting oil painting sky
melting through pink and blue clouds
I've finally found something worth the fear
of being completely swallowed up
and reshaped by an unknown hope

Spring Release

Sweet, sinful secrets grow stale
kept away from the spring light
urgent longing to release
bleeding tongues bound with twine

Something stirring deep beneath
the rolling hillside breeze
the tense, stagnant feeling in the air
right before the downpour

Trembling, tender buds
on the cusp of a new season
those brave first days of nature
defying a few more morning frosts

Honeysuckle blossoms spattered
with dirt alongside the highway
the smell of fresh pavement
challenging earth's resilience

Perpetual ascension, futile suppression
thick air soon breaks into thunderstorms
paint the dark earth with the wretched truth
this land has lessons, it does not lie  

Still Tired

Necromancer sprite of spring
pulling life out of forgotten graves
is there still a garden inside me?
I can't remember what grew there

It's never easy getting up again
after months spent underground
the soil lies heavy on tired eyelids
the ache of empty veins refilled

Growing tired of endless cycles
water wheel curse in the river of time
caught in constant non-consensual motion
wringing out energy with drops of blood


Thick silence between raindrops
the empty ache inside a soul
starts to feel like hunger pangs
the dry crack of patched lips
after a long drought

The body learns to numb sensations
that have so long stayed untended
like a constant shrill sound that will
eventually fade into the background
pain can for a while be forgotten

Soft cascade into feeling nothing
is suddenly interrupted with the spring
a stirring starts to awaken old memories
the restless internal insistence
to return to the whispering woods

Final First Days

Final crisp air of the last days of winter
fragile, foolish hopes glisten with the frost
my life is cracking open to reveal a new season
finding shelter from sunlight in the cool moss

It's hard to keep turning pages when
the book seems halfway finished
making paper cranes with yellowed edges
translating words that weren't written in english

Skittish tip-toe steps towards the sunrise
unsure sounds of someone else, footsteps at my side
breathe me in deeply with the humid air of summer
protective ribcage sanctuary, by your heart I will reside