For holidays, and hidden ways,
For shorter goes and longer stays,
For time reflecting only breath,
For flowers named Elizabeth,
For every moment felt in joy,
Adventure spent, and girl-meets-boy,
With gratitude we lift and know
How good things are, when they
Are so
Behind these words, there is a me;
I’ve hidden him for years —-
I’ve been afraid of God-knows-what,
And lived within those fears.
I’ve tried to find the heart’s extremes
From safe within the middle;
I’ve reached for objectivity,
But in this life, there’s little.
For who and what I am determines
How I think and feel,
And there’s no me at all, if I
Cannot be truly real.
So I have friends, and family,
And love, here, where I’m at:
Behind these words there is a me,
A lucky me,
At that
she stopped in autumn
to take stock of what she had
and found much there that
she might have undervalued
like coffee, and gratitude
I like crooked places and asymmetrical landscapes;
uneven ground, where the grass, weeds and flowers all grow wild
I like summer days so hot, the bees are practically motionless
I like drinking real Coca-Cola – made in Mexico – straight out of a glass bottle
while riding a bicycle with no hands, feeling the wind on my head
I like fall days, bright colors pouring out of the trees
I like getting out sweaters, and sweatshirts, and light jackets, and
heading out to watch a football game as the sun goes down over the stadium
I like new semesters, and old friends, and restaurants where the food is so good,
I eat myself stupid
I like the excitement of an autumn evening, the smell of thankfulness
