Love Letter

I know you have to go.  

It's time.

But, I'll remember you.

In your hot brights,

and sparkling silks, I'll remember you.

Thirsty days,

Liquid nights, I'll remember you.

Touches sweet,

kisses deep, I'll remember you.

Forever warm, rich and ripe, I'll remember you.

This much is true.

Wild Blackberries

I assembled my paints, soaked the paper

and tuned in to "the fish fry" for atmosphere.

I took that as encouragement from the universe!

and slid into muse mode.

Which turned out to be mad, crazy fun!

 The process of mixing colors and loading brushes

was as beautiful and gratifying

as the actual painting.

Oh, how happy you have made me.

Every little step revealed its magic.

                                                                    And time dissolved into pure joy. 

            Because, to me, painting is a form of play.

  which, in my case, seems to be a blessing . . .

and so begins another weekend.

Oops, we're a few hours into Saturday already.

Night night.

(P.S.  Anybody hungry for pie?)

Thistle Seed Drifter

Today, quite honestly, I do not feel inspired.

Or visionary.

Or particularly energized.

I don't.

So, rather than fight it, I think I'll drift for a while here.

Like the thistle seed within it's whispery, furry pod,

adrift on the breeze.

Flounced by updrafts,

parachuting back toward earth in downdrafts.

It's okay, I think, to travel this way

from time to time.

It'll have to be.

Until I land on that just right spot of earth

alive with moisture, sun and shade

waiting

for a drifter like me.