Tapestry of Falling Leaves

“…she is becoming a deeply worn weathered basket carrying only precious cargo…”

temporary heartache lifts as thoughts slowly release gently into impending hibernation enduring thickly wet burdened burnt umber leaves giving pause to reflect

she is delayed with sloggy mid-mud emergence for only moments

and like it,

slowly becoming

the lotus woman 

opening up to all she is as desired

weathering inner onion layers thick with sobbing storms that once cried out resembling tornado alleys echoing banshee wails, she sheds then wipes tears heavy and burdened by regrets surrendering salty and true

delightedly lifting now by shifting light

feathery and softening sharp imagined

edges once ruffled up by life 

gently easing and into a smoothed out version undulating and uplifted

by laughter that’s known bitter roots cut deep left with nothing but to heal

content with Rapunzel hair flowing unfettered and tamed by wiley brushes with near-death showing thriving beyond surviving is paramount for authentic living

greying at the temples, gossamer once yet, still growing without split nor abandon

with no longer need for towers nor shining armor knights with agenda

enjoying an acquired taste for her body’s new softness in places where once were firm enough to bounce any quarter 

quickly flipping free in

her embodiment of a woman embrassing crone status

now beyond shackles imposed by anti-social morés and constricting stigmatic paradigms followed blindly but with hopeful intent

embracing an embroidery of scars running across a universe of sun-kissed freckled skin replete with crow’s feet imprints now becoming evidence of fast lane living loving each looking at them

as merely mid-life  tattoos, 

only with better stories

of a deeper meaning

worn gently badges in testimony

to not just living but alive while

she is becoming a woman who

knows she’s a warrior 

not a worrier

fully pledged standing in allegiance to loving still and will, in fact, inspite, of at times being forlorn she knows in time

that whatever comes,

she will endure.

she is becoming a deeply worn weathered basket carrying only precious cargo

handled well, willing to carry anything with grace and gratitude despite how heavy her arms holding polished patina and facing

anything- that- comes-up-able

learning to now let go of any superfluous weights that good-for-nothings

disguised-as-everythings

once upon a times seemingly in perpituity held her down against her will or because of it is evaporating eventually leaving existential lesson

she is becoming the woman she’s longed for;

the comforting lover 

ferocious and tender,

unyielding to accept anything but unconditional love for self as others worthy of such with caveat no cruelty allowed in this house of cards that has battled blowhards’ wind fallen

the grown up daughter with shy and stoic beginnings who is no longer willing to be silent in speaking her mind over matters of personal dogma despite dismissive envy from the bloodline tribe

who still believes in pleasant surprises, holds on to nothing but faith in karmic retribution being real for both kind and nefarious acts upon any sentient being and will eventually show true colors  even ones that tumble from her own lips on occasion standing  by her side when all else failed

what was said with conviction despite minor teetering on occasion now is fodder for the reflecting pool

she, becoming illuminated, brighter with each full moon and sunrise knowing with each cycle of the days knowing that every moment has at the very least an inkling of light despite darkness knowing she is becoming this woman she’s wanted,  yearned for for decades

who knows she’ll continue growing

who knows she’s more than sufficient

who knows she’s precious,

who knows she’s rare 

who knows she is plenty

plenty enough to handle but refuses to be handled with any unnecessary roughness

who knows that her kindness will never again be mistaken for weakness,

who knows hat she is a glittering warrior queen and despite foibles falling along will always again rise 

she is becoming the woman that is plenty enough just as she is.

Moon Child

“…awaiting ecliptic emergence
in muted light slowly gathering strength to emerge powerful…”



traversing trepeditiously on wiley brambled hill steep
in ancient deep rooted canyon
with muddy boot abandon
she climbs high among trees’ canopy shadows settling in for the evening
as cool lingering tulle fog tickles heels far from complacency
taunting impending sporadic rain
oblivious to any craggy obstacles
that may challenge her way

above canopy of evergreens an owl swoops stealthily startling the brush

coquettish moon emerges
like a vestal virgin
from behind curtain
then smoothly seeks solace
in contemplative gadabout clouds
sequestering herself in order
to recharge and enlighten others

shyly shielding her glory temporarily taking respite from angst, egotistical attention and accolades,
again, mother moon hangs chillaxing
lifting spirits with quiet reflection

soft movements nearly undetectable her quest for momentary responsibility to shines silvery on in her own time

deep purple waves undulate under
weight of the soft silver memory of
distant glistening light stars
between intermittent spurts
of delicate rain and speckled mist
she relinquishes her light
but for a mere moment
to rest her weariness for a nanomoment regaining strength of shedding light upon the darkening canyon

Jack and Jill share buckets
full of illuminating secrets
refusing to fall down that blesséd hill
obscured from peering eyes
with short sighted ulterior motives and wagging tongues,
onward she decides to hold ground
trusting in primal instinct
knowing
those who look deeper beyond horizon of splendourous celebration of Autumnal night sky will see more than meets the eye

with hearfelt authenticity she seeks beyond scintillating skies
yeildng her brilliant birthright light
empowering inward during her momentary sabbatical

less weight,
now has she,
than carrying heavy
water logged buckets uphill,
tumbling shadows rise up and over streams plump with recent rains
water falling gently onwards over
craggy grey ancient granite
and recently felled trees

cool and mossy
in deep introspection
moon,
finally
having had enough
enough enough enough
being fully sick and tired
of long stories
of cows jumping over her
to get to the other sides of darkness,
reflects
eventually rejecting sublimation to counterparts, evolving into symbiotic syzygy
one-two-three aligned like soldiers
crickets begin to fade
as bullfrogs emerge

And at just that very moment, her light returns

lending forgiveness to the staggering changes mentoring great lessons one being
even during darkest moments
when we feel most invisible
trusting with true intent
the eventuality that cycles
will always reveal complete wholeness once again

patiently awaiting ecliptic emergence
in muted light slowly gathering strength to emerge powerful
after undulating moments of overwhelming treacle thick darkness
interspersed with glimmering hope
under the light of the moon
blooms an affluent splendor

enlightening our purposeful path
out from deepest depths of darkness
she cries: follow the path of light, I promise to reveal your way despite any pending darkness that has consumed your soul
i will help shine the way

Shakey Foundation

Realllllllllly rough day. I mean rather epically upheaving to the foundation. Yeah. Good times. However. …  … …
Not only is this the time of year when the mornings are crisply flooded with gossamer  edge-frosty light, shy but showy marigolds make their appearance as summer’s blooms hold on for dear life and the trees prepare for a splendid amber display before taking a well- deserved intermission from holding up their balmy branches of wiley leaves, somehow revelation and contemplative enlightened perspective occurs. They (those trees that offer us shade on a blazingly bright balmy hot humid day) like many,  they are exhausted from the pressure to display splendor. To ” show up”. Autumn shows a winding down perspective. It’s as if the  universe and our intuitive guidance is saying as the earth shifts her axis: show more gratitude over attitude and just slow the efff down. It’ll be okay.  It’s a cycle, this thing called life.  Like the moon or the seasons, there is a myriad of several of similar cycle on a loop. Yeah, it can be dark at times yet,  light always somehow comes back around. Trust. Know. Believe all will be well. Even not, what is the harm in thinking so? Hmmm??🤔😉
I absolutely adore Autumn.  It tugs at my shirt tail and reminds me of said cycles. You know what I speak of. The OMFG so much so much to do vs. wtf do I do…. you know it’s true. Can mess with a person if they aren’t living mindfully. Anyway… continuing with a snapshot of my life.  🤔😉
Life is a hamster wheel.  UPdownUPdownUPdown….repeat. With that….
In addition to experiencing levity during a particularly rough, prickly dark moment, later this evening things smoothed a bit. Not only was a childhood friend’s adult kid on Jimmy Fallon as an incredibly funny comic, my cheesy artichoke/jalapeño toast was deliciously divine.🌬💕🍁
Yay.
Yeah, life can sure suck a$$.
However,  it can also be splendid. It’s remarkable, really. Srsly. Life is a blessing,  albeit at times challenging 🌬💕🙏🕊🍁🎶
P.S. Just hope the ruminating insomnia troll stays under the bridge tonight. Need some shuteye and per chance, to dream☁️💭💤💨🤔🌬💕🙏🕊.

Deciduous Earth

🍁🍂🐾🌾❤ 🍁🍂🐾🌾❤ Autumn is a delicate shift letting us know that all things change. We rise. We fall. We regroup and rejuvenate. We bloom again. It’s a time to be patient. That yes, brisk days and frosty air are around the corner. If we pay attention, it is
telling us to slow down and appreciate the changes not fear them.
I love the shifting landscape, the way the light becomes golden and soft, the sound of leaves falling as they touch the ground, of them crunching underfoot, kicking them up as I walk through them, the scent wafting up, the ever familiar argument this time of year…yay or nay pumpkin spice, chunky sweaters with jeans and a great pair of boots, cooler days. The bare branches expose the naked truth of the trees. Their character and innermost personality, if you will. Leaves may fall but if the roots are strong survival is imminent. This time of year is magical and I love it, all of it.💕🍁🍂🦋💕