chosen

I want to write softly.
Speak softly.
Pink and rosy shades of day.
Giving and helping.
Showing and moving.
Light and song and wide open.
Touching and feeling with sparkle.
Skipping down the trail to you.
Bouncing laughing singing.
Floating toward my chosen.
But what does my chosen do for me?

What now?

What now?
What do I do now that I'm here and can stay?
I feel like I might not be finished and I'm getting the itch already again.

Mighty Mississip'

There was no rain
Only whispers
The curtains were drawn
There were no outsiders
Night’s cape lingered
Long after St. Louis’ noon chime

We waited so patiently
For that first day to dawn
Plans and anticipations
Culminating on embrace
Then impatience growing
Until we could not escape

In a bright sunlit room
We made our chamber
Exclusive, intimate
And completely ours
Falling down together
We knew no boundaries

At night we found adventures
And in day hours we played
Never farther than arms length
Were we ever apart
Eat, drink and be merry
Was only the most simple start.

What we planted on the bank
Of the mighty Mississip'
Traveled west and north
Growing and gaining strength
And will stay as long as the river
Needs a place to meet the sea.

helpful words

For Kimberly and anyone else who needs to hear it!

break up
break down
drink up
fool around.

baby baby

Oh baby, baby please tell me its not just pillow talk.

grant me this

grant me this
a half and half sky
green on the bottom
blue on top
rows of the brownest dirt
saturated with the water
only found near the marsh
bayou winding nearby
peaceful not moving any
faster than we do ourselves

grant me this
a front porch
white washed
ceiling fan and a swing
the only movement
aside from the breeze
breathing not blowing
sun baking our skin
already brown from planting
hands for holding
callused and strong

grant me this
laughter in tiny
helpers more
agile than ourselves
more hopeful of beans
planted in less than perfect soil
overalls permanently stained
hands smooth yet
legs strong from running
not a fence in sight
that they can't go through
because it is all theirs
as it is ours that we've made.

grant me this
friends for our tiny friends
curly tails, red beaks,
panting tongues, spotted hides,
galloping hard hoofs,
all of this for them and us
the process of life there in front
of them to see, know, hold past us
we teach them the ways
we show them how
they find adventure
all around them

grant me this
sunday dinner
sun high, tablecloth blowing
laundry done and hung
whipping in the wind breath
dishes and dishes
fruit of the week
our moms and dads over
to see the tiny ones
laughter and "again! again!"
shouted as paw paw
picks them up
by the overall straps again.

grant me this
you and me
sitting together
on that swing
you hung just for me
on the tree
planted long before
to remind us
we are as strong
as the time we spend together
the tree enveloping us
solace in feeling time's strength
on those burly oak branches
holding us securely
rocking back and forth.

fear me not.

fear me not, i am not yours.
i cannot move mountains
or even open doors

i shant leave you in the rain
or at the very least
call out to you in shame.

i will not track you down
call your mother
then tell her what I've found.

i know a lot less than you think i do
and that is just the start
never not ever could i ever break your heart.