Outdoor Shrine

The tiny candle,
flame struggling
in the bitter cold,
sends out its
sincere prayers
to the heavens.

Fallen Angel

I limp along the road
with broken wings
from years of blindly
flying into things.

My halo tarnished
and my feathers worn
I look upon the others
and I mourn

the opportunities
and concord missed
because I did not
fit onto their list

of gleaming halo,
feathers, blinding white
untouched by life
and uncorrupt' by night.

Falling down the rabbit hole

Falling down the rabbit hole
twirling, swirling down the
narrowing funnel,
I go faster
as I get near
the
end.

Coming Late to Grace

Unseen and unrecognized,
Grace always come through
and I see it
only afterwards
with the certainty
of the one who's read
the ending
of the book

At forty-nine, I'm one again
hands clenched tightly
on my lap
pretending no one notices
I look 'round
to see
what is expected
trying
to learn
the language
trying--
guessing
at
normal
This time
only FEELING
bald

Like an awkward adolescent, 

the queen anne's lace 

grows unnaturally tall,

lean and lanky, 

in the summer heat 

and does not realize

how beautiful she really is.

The Better Angels

By this time,
I know the better angels
of my nature*
disagree.


*With thanks to Abraham Lincoln for the metaphor. (image and quote from Lincoln's first inaugural address.)
One Single Impression Prompt:  Angels 

From the place inside my head

I was reminded today
that we are each stuck
inside our own minds
trying desperately
to get out
and connect with other people.*
That is the POINT
of life--to get OUT of our
minds and CONNECT.

This means that we will have
our delicate toes
stepped on
by those who don't realize they are there.

Our hopes will be shattered like
delicate china cups
and the tea they contain
will spill all over
the linoleum floor.

We will cry our own tears
and laugh our own laughter
at how alike we are
and how different
from
those we love.

*Hat tip to John Green for the image.

Preponderance

Eventually, 

there is no longer a preponderance 

of money

or time

but of memories

and of love

This week's One Single Impression Prompt:  Preponderance 

Illusion

The undulating heat waves 

rise up from the miles of 

ever-increasing black top,
creating a wavy wall of illusion,
telling us that we are
detached from our world,
safe in our air conditioned buildings
living our virtual lives
until the heat is gone.

Overt

You notice my feelings,
barely hidden by my mind's
frail denial,
scoop them up
tenderly
and hand them back to me
in your gentle, outstretched hands.

Summer Antiquing

Other peoples' things
sit, collecting dust,
on a crowded shelf,
waiting to stir up murky memories
which swirl around aimlessly
like soft, grey mud
at the bottom of the bay
when you step
oh so carefully
on a summer's evening.

Let me soar

to the heights.

Let me sever the strings

that hold me to the earth--

that are held so tightly
by those on the ground.

Let go

of the lines

that hold me

to the shore

and let me float,

my sails filled

with the breath

of the Spirit. 

In the late afternoon sun
I walk across the parking lot
willing my middle aged brain
to find where I left my vehicle.

I look up to realize
I am surrounded
by cars.

They hover
like giant square bees,
their turn signals nervously blinking.
Each one is certain
that they are the
anointed successor
to my soon to be vacated parking space.

A room of one's own, says Virginia,
is necessary to write Shakespeare,
but is it necessary
to be happy?
What remains after the
dust kicked up by the earthquake of life
settles?  Is there anything underneath?

Perhaps Words remain.
Words to God.  Words to self.
Words to the clean, crisp air,
floating out like silent sound waves
ready to be heard
by some secret someone
in an unseen future.

Uncanny

from dead to living
in unspoken alliance--
habits are passed

This week's Haiku Bones Prompt--Uncanny

The Mirror

She rises, sightless,  from her bed
and walks about the house,
comforted in its inky blackness;
Aware of an unseen trajectory
each obstacle is avoided by visionless eyes.

She comes upon a wall and
gazes in terror...
the sound of a scream
piercing her agreeable dormancy,
and sees her own
face.

The years pass by.
The incandescent twinkle
in his eyes remains.

I watch the world,
silent, and black and white--
exploding rain drops

dressed in our finest

we smile for the camera

I look away

horses in the snow
looking for edible grass
a lone pine tree

losing energy
tired; sighing quietly

mournful teapot

Time disappears;
hearts electrify across telephone wires

winter static

we take refuge

from the winter wind

the fly and I