My Spirit Soars

In this starlit darkness, birds create bright
songs to conjure skies. Anticipate light
and soon the eastern glow will lift laments
and cries for those who, stuck in story, pent-

up, inveigled in the lies, cannot know
hope. The freedom codes outring cussed, old
perceptions of enslavement. It’s the fourth
of July. The end is nigh. To the north

the sunrise pinks this long, slow, sweet delight
unveiling mystery and now the night
is over. Dawn presides, a symphony
of trills and whistles colors brilliantly

my sight. I dance and open windows, doors
unlock. My heart instructed by the corps
of angels, spirit messengers in flight.
An owl wings over, last vestige of night.

Inspired by: Lament, Inveigle and Cussed.

Featured image: A bluebird yesterday, driving off a mealworm thief.

What Lies Broken

Bluebirds chatter-build where cheeping sparrows 
forbid amid chirping hatchling swallows. 

Cacophony of greed imperatives 
masks grounds to seed. My male relatives

hang grimly to the dying ways to feed 
a pattern we no longer need. Succeed 

by cash amassing. Don’t heed as sisters, 
in tune with those who bleed–resisters

who seed their fear in angry deeds–ask why 
we turn away from sun, instructive sky 

to count the hoard, ignore the cry. I speak 
my truth in crumbling story’s pique.

Inspired by: Grounds.

Featured image: High winds knocked this perfect robin’s egg from a nest hidden and unreachable in a tangle of trees.

Control and Surrender

The Dragonfly’s…flight across water represents an act of going beyond what’s on the surface and looking into the deeper implications and aspects of life. To move in all six directions demonstrates a sense of power and poise – something that comes only with age and maturity. The dragonfly accomplishes its objectives with utmost simplicity, effectiveness, elegance and grace.

In the predawn tangle dreams vibrate light
and sound symphonies by the lake. The flight
of night slow and subtle challenge insight
as fear becomes clear. How it fogs heart sight.

Each worry is an arrow I release
aimed at a higher power til at peace
I stand my ground, my blemishes revealed
and each imperfect step demands I yield.

Inspired by: Blemish, Challenge, Tangle and a dragonfly who poses for me by the shore (featured image) and then two who claim my attention (image below). Photographing dragonflies is an act of cooperation. I aim, exhale and click (with goosebumps) as they fly into center stage.

All Blessings Flow

Your lifestream is energy–monitor where that energy flows….to the New creation, rather than the old.~Sandra Walter

In the morning, wet grass imparts wisdom
to bare feet. Dark clouds. And now smoke has come,
assails. Follow scents, open dank places.
Heart-song gut-led walk out of the laces

I’ve bound myself in servitude to those
conspicuous in fear rigamarole.
Pitiful they seek my strength, then suck dry
until imbalanced I pace under skies

promising adventure once I release
the old, create new songs with energy
flowing through love. This portal is a squeeze,
a birth canal. I must push through somehow.

Inspired by: Conspicuous, Rigamarole, Adventure and Impart.

Beyond Illusions

In the awakened state, you perceive not only the physical world. You see also the spirit world, the world of potential and shimmering design.~Ken Carey

I could compose an atmospheric yarn,
I suppose, here at the old shed, a barn
with clutter aplenty, attic’s rejects
brimming full of treasure-to-trash prospects.

The kids finger their phones and eye the wreck.
Dumpsters await on speed dial, I suspect.
Possessions own and weigh us down, they’ve learned.
They’re anxious for this pile of junk to burn.

Aweigh! Sentimentality’s for fools.
No longer will it anchor here and rule.
All of the pretty illusory lies
are clearly just reflections in the skies.

Wisdom is shining through the cracks, the light
expanding to consume dark things in flight.
And so crumble edifices of old.
The new’s emerging as bright love unfolds.

Inspired by: Clutter, The Old Shed, Atmospheric, Aplenty and the Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt yarn.

Morning Reflections

In my quest for fresh air, I scare two ducks,
a great blue heron, six geese. Honking, clucks,
loud scolds. A bluebird bold claims emptied box.
A noisome sparrow balks. Over the rocks

the sun’s just stroking the horizon east
as warnings abound. I pierce last night’s dreams
through morning sounds. Backwards, sliding on ice,
the useless brakes, I steered, peering behind

as lights bore down. Survived. In neutral, paused.
This is because I’ve come back and the claws
of bitter seething that consumed grandmas
now come to me–gifts I’ll claim soon. The cause

is narrative, and so again I shift
from zealots defending stories I lift
and celebrate. The bluebird’s rival dives.
It’s time to brood. Allowing, new arrives.

Inspired by: Zealot, Soon and Rival and this duck, playing decoy while his mate sits on the nest near shore.

Soldier On

Now I finally show up in my home
town with proverbial prodigal poems
–last year, they threw stones. Thin corridors
to refuge in that deluge choristers

offered. There’s no excuse. The past unloosed
becomes a story I rewrite. My might
–I’m warrior, accompanied by birds,
grounded and balanced–is writing unheard

words to convey some of this morning’s joys
–my raft through waves. A shy green heron’s poised
and dives into the bright reflective lake.
Goldfinch and oriole and robin make

this trilling, clacking, whistling bustle.
Revealing now, brave, ready to hustle
for deeper cover, yet nothing stops song.
Singing together, praising sun, rights wrong.

Inspired by: Corridor, Excuse, Proverbial and Deluge .