not just yet

  

The leaves dazzled me today, drenched in golden sunlight, dancing wildly in the wind, hanging on for dear life with their crimson-flecked friends. Fall is a literal season. Everything falls. Everything dies. The earth sleeps. Yet today the world was alive. Everywhere I turned, the colors screamed vibrancy and verve; the plants rebelled, and the air, candidly fresh, carried a hint of sweet-smelling insurgence. Brava. Good for you. And a girl was happy. 

those mountains

I wasn’t expecting this. This feeling of soft, absolute and embracing peace, of Dorothy’s assured utterance to Toto to linger in my mind…if indeed there is no place like home, why did I feel such home here? The mountains, faultlessly vibrant in tints of intoxicated nature, always placed perfectly in the horizon…and then not quite so far reaching, actually underneath your own two feet. However present in their exquisite grandeur, there is an undeniable charm here. The sky may be misty gray, or the most picturesque azure blue, it may be biting cold and snow for days or beam down the warmest rays of happy sunshine…there is just something about those mountains, those beautiful mountains in the distance. 

Lady Lazarus

Swirling, twirling madness devours my brain bit by bit. The world a wobbling haze before me, eyes heavy, coveting darkness even for a moment, needing to surrender for the day. Sweet surrender. A smile flashes as it is trained to do. The show must go on, until dutifully the day is done. I am held captive somewhere in here, amidst the coiling, the spinning, this body that doesn’t seem my own.…yet I will claw my way out, I will return. It will not have me. Does it not know me? Does it not knoweth my persistence? My will? My faith? I have beaten it once, I will rise again...like Lazarus; I will rise again. 

welcome back spring

Sometimes you just need to stop and take it all in...marvel at the the pink...she outdoes herself every spring.

change

The sky was lit ablaze tonight, the earth glowing in its fiery madness. Without notice, almost overnight, the forest of bones has become a mingling of all things budding, promising, jade. The first leaves gently whisper of things to come...yes...

A change is acomin. 

none of it, all of it

The noise is good. It’s lurid, almost sweetly deafening, high squealing delight. Feet disco above me, pitter-pattering this way and that across the hallway, echoing down in euphonic content. Out the window they swing back and forth, the sky safeguarding them in clusters of perfect white puffiness, only the smallest frames of blue peeking out amongst shapes of porcupines and castles.  I sit and listen. I sit and watch. I sit and smile.

And none of it is mine. 

ghosts

They dance all around me, these ghosts. My wanderlust, my ceaseless friend.  They tell me of a place where flowers bloom in the cracks of concrete, where clouds are palpable and take you places if you dare. Sheer organza drapes my body in fluidity and grace, but I am not in Kansas anymore. These ghosts will fool with their trickery. I have been here before.