Let’s Go Get Her

once upon a time
before the shame
and the sin
you were a cartwheel
hair flying
in full tumble
throwing yourself
with mad delight
into the arms of
wind and spirit

once upon a time
before the shame
and the sin
you were a starkeeper
your wishes alone
kept the stars aloft
in a velvet sky
of invitation and belonging

you knew the sylvan
truth of fireflies
and trailed their
golden lantern path
over silvered meadow
into to the lullaby
of fairyland

the moon was a
grandmother from a tale
you still remembered
watching over your every move
look! you said. Look!
everywhere we go
the moon follows us
all the way home

once upon a time
before the shame
and the sin
acorns were goblin hats
trees were secret keepers
clouds were sky puppets
butterflies and honey bees
were emissaries of otherwhere
guarding the old stories
adults had already forgotten
to remember

once upon a time
before the shame
and the sin
you moved through
the world like it was
your back yard
elbows made of frolic
knees made of wonder
fingers and toes a whirl
of color and possibility

your mind was full of
neverland
and your heart was full
of Oz
your body was still
a playground
and a confidant
and a friend

remember her?
she got lost somewhere
between the shame
and the sin
but she’s still there
cartwheel smile
moonbeam soul
fairy tale girl
in love with
her own life
in love with you
bawdy and soul

she’s still in there
daring, brazen
wild with
possibility
let’s
go
get
her.

~Ang Sullins
www.angisullins.com

I’ll Tell You A Secret

Anyone who says, “Here’s my address,
write me a poem,” deserves something in reply.
So I’ll tell a secret instead:
poems hide.
In the bottoms of our shoes,
they are sleeping.
They are the shadows
drifting across our ceilings
the moment before we wake up.
What we have to do
is live in a way that lets us find them.

~Naomi Shihab Nye

Image: Pink Sherbet Photography 

Shout It. Write It. Tell It.

“Tell your story.
Shout it. Write it.
Whisper it if you have to.
But tell it.
Some won’t understand it.
Some will outright reject it.
But many will
thank you for it.

And then the most
magical thing will happen.
One by one, voices will start
whispering, ‘Me, too.’
And your tribe will gather.
And you will never
feel alone again.”

~L.R. Knost

Wolf image artist unknown

Be Gentle

The deer say
be gentle with you
It is a time to be courageous
in gentler ways
People cannot bully their way into creating magic
It is the gentle heart that will find the way forward
It is the gentle hearted who will find strength in the journey
who know that their gentle ways are forged with love
There IS nothing stronger.

~Jude Downes
judedownes.com

🌙

Photo by Carly Rae Hobbins, Unsplash

Natural Love

This morning as I walked along the lakeshore,
I fell in love with a wren
and later in the day with a mouse
the cat had dropped under the dining room table.

In the shadows of an autumn evening,
I fell for a seamstress
still at her machine in the tailor’s window,
and later for a bowl of broth,
steam rising like smoke from a naval battle.

This is the best kind of love, I thought,
without recompense, without gifts,
or unkind words, without suspicion,
or silence on the telephone.

The love of the chestnut,
the jazz cap and one hand on the wheel.

No lust, no slam of the door –
the love of the miniature orange tree,
the clean white shirt, the hot evening shower,
the highway that cuts across Florida.

No waiting, no huffiness, or rancor –
just a twinge every now and then

for the wren who had built her nest
on a low branch overhanging the water
and for the dead mouse,
still dressed in its light brown suit.

But my heart is always propped up
in a field on its tripod,
ready for the next arrow.

After I carried the mouse by the tail
to a pile of leaves in the woods,
I found myself standing at the bathroom sink
gazing down affectionately at the soap,

so patient and soluble,
so at home in its pale green soap dish.
I could feel myself falling again
as I felt its turning in my wet hands
and caught the scent of lavender and stone.

~Billy Collins, Aimless Love
❤️

Image by Nancy Lankston