THE UNINVITED FRIEND
I have an uninvited friend.
She came to my door last night, again, and I almost pretended to be out.
But it was too late, she saw me peering through the blinds and she can sense my energy anyway.
I let my friend in and she w
Art: Brooklyn Swenson
“Something told the wild geese
It was time to go.
Though the fields lay golden
Something whispered,—‘Snow.’
Leaves were green and stirring,
Berries, luster-glossed,
But beneath warm feathers
Something cautioned,—‘Frost.’
All the
Autumn
by Adelaide Crapsey
Art by Alla Tsank
Fugitive, wistful,
Pausing at edge of her going,
Autumn the maiden turns,
Leans to the earth with ineffable
Gesture. Ah, more than
Spring's skies her skies shine
Tender, and frailer
Bloom than plum-bloom or alm
The Wind And The Leaves
by George Cooper
Art by Maja Lindberg
"Come, little leaves," said the wind one day.
"Come o'er the meadows with me, and play'
Put on your dress of red and gold,—
Summer is gone, and the days grow cold."
Soon as the leaves h
The Tree
by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
Art by William Stephen Coleman
The Tree's early leaf-buds were bursting their brown;
"Shall I take them away?" said the Frost, sweeping down.
"No, leave them alone
Till the blossoms have grown,"
Prayed the Tree, while
Artwork by Elaine Bayley Illustrations
A flower that blooms later than the rest
is no less beautiful.
A forest that grows later than the rest
is no less bountiful.
A fruit that ripens later than the rest
is no less delectable.
A sunrise that appears la
"Beautiful Girl Walking through the Field, a Flower in His Hand" by Henri Martin, (1889)
~ Free ~
The tree does not say to the rock,
"You are unworthy"
The moon to the ocean: "You are wrong.
you should not be."
The wind does not judge the fire
"Dreaming of Pomegranates" by Felice Casorati (1913)
Dear Mama Earth
I am tired.
Like your are
Weary to my chalk-earth bones
Mama Earth
I look for you, I have my whole life
Without knowing what for. Why.
Though as a child
I was closer.
I somehow
~ For World Bee Day ~
“Hush now.
The wounds run deep,
but the bees
are full of knowing.
They know the hive
of your heart,
each crooked curled chamber
each hopefully hidden curve,
each darkened holding cell.
They have come
with wings
and song
“What time will you get in tonight?
Text me when you’re home
Be careful if you’re driving
Or if you’re out alone
Shout me if you need me
Or call me anytime
Hey, remember when we did that thing
And laughed until we cried?
Take a coat, it’s rainin
The Cure For It All
Go gently today, don’t hurry
or think about the next thing. Walk
with the quiet trees, can you believe
how brave they are—how kind? Model your life
after theirs. Blow kisses
at yourself in the mirror
especially when
you think you
joy is feeling
looking upwards
skies enrapture
the sorry self
and its grievance
joy is seeing
looking westwards
social fracture
healing itself
from insurgence
joy is knowing
looking eastwards
proper culture
relieves oneself
from ignorance
jo
joy is knowing
the best of views
fuels volition
to climb the mount
joy is having
freedom to choose
which obstruction
one must surmount
joy is knowing
hearing the muse
is like drinking
from the youth fount
joy is having
nothing to lose
and ye
when gloominess
deflects the gale
joy is the wind
that fills the sail
when despair is
tricking the scale
joy is the clue
that tells the tale
when spleen is thick
and hopes are pale
joy is meaning
that lifts the veil
when no reason
can find t
though worries hurt
and fears injure
joy yields healing
beyond measure
though gloom has roots
deep in culture
joy at all times
sages nurture
though the reasons
may outnumber
joy is the wealth
wise ones treasure
though the mundane
exerts pres
when the constraints
the spirit faze
joy is a door
out of the maze
when nobody
offers their praise
joy is moving
on anyways
when challenges
the psyche daze
joy is clear sky
after the haze
when upheavals
disrupt the ways
joy is respite
on hea
when there is fault
at the crossroad
joy is knowing
the cosmic goad
when the ciphers
the wit erode
joy is insight
breaking the code
when through hard work
seeds have been sowed
joy is seeing
blessings bestowed
when there's burden
and a long
when there's no vim
the land to till
joy swells the wind
running the mill
when there's no verve
the page to fill
joy lights the spark
moving the quill
when obstacles
challenge the skill
joy marks the path
leading uphill
when restrictions
det
joy is being given
the secret of silence
after the hard lesson
and the heavy penance
joy is being driven
to relay radiance
and this way forgiven
for past indifference
§
𝑰 𝑫𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰𝒏 𝑴𝒚 𝑫𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒔
𝑩𝒚 𝑭𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝑲𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕
𝐼 𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑡, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑠 𝐼 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑆𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑐 𝑓𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑙𝑜𝑤, 𝐼𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑓 𝐼𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑑, 𝐴 𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑓 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑔𝑜.
𝐼 𝑠𝑎𝑤 𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑜𝑙𝑑 ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑊𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑔𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑡𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑠, 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑓𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑛
