Dawn

I always get there early
in the section to myself
and wait in the dark
for her to reveal herself.

Ahead of her core,
her aura swirls the void,
until the rebirthing beauty
is granted to my eyes.

Chain Links

Withering weed
behind chain-link fence
produces the illusion
of being defenseless,

unable to escape
to freedom,
but the thing
about dandelions
is the way God made them,

for big are the dreams
they are charged with,
but it is in their breaking apart
into pieces that launches

these seeds of more
to be rebirthed elsewhere,
carried protectively upon benevolent breeze
and prayer

in different directions
better for us,
for when dead ends surround,
the ways are through
or up,

toward The Light,
and wing-bathed in hope,
blind-ride flight right through
the wide-open holes,

or one cracked window…

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Hammock

I gently lay
my heart to rest
upon a sea-oat-
suspended hammock

and let my Maker
tenderly sway
through the breeze
my cradled malaise,

and after this dose
of soaking wounds in warm gold,
I’ll convert this sling
to sail boat…

Covenant

Single glistening gossamer thread
catching and releasing rays with wind,
perhaps a bridge
between the yellow and white
wildflowers aglow with golden morning light.

I sit transfixed
by its intermittent existence…

Shadows have yet to be filled in
by Sun still half in bed,
and my ataractic trance
is interrupted by silhouettes:

two “mourning” doves,
omen of good fortune in love

or celestial messengers
like yesterday’s hummingbird
letting me know He’s been present all along,
and this is the amaranthine after-(last)storm calm.

Origin

Sometimes miracles happen
in one downpour
of the heavens,
and sometimes it may be
we need to learn
that last lesson…

Tucked within,
regardless,
I have come to believe,
are the nudges and nuggets
that to the origin
of our Created selves
lead and rebirthe
free.

I Let It

I let a patch grow unmowed
to organically re-sprout
in my soul.
I leave it all out of focus,
for clarity comes
most gently
in the abstract
of moments…

Dewdrops

Early morning dewdrops
twinkle as optical stars
in a galaxy dirt-hovering,
kissing blades and wildflowers.

Poem and images ©LDBS

Little Pieces

little pieces
of sunny
reach up from
buried,
inhale,
and ignite,

reminding me
I can too,
one breath,
one ray,
at a time

First Chords

In the dark,
as a harbinger
of horizon’s light:
the herald’s song,
solo bird’s
opening line.

What hope floats
through my open window
to remind:
courage upon blindness
most often rides.

In the lightening mist
before the sun arrives,
the first chords inspire
the chorus to rise…

Petals

I found a pile
of moments,
once treasure,
memories preserved
in sensitive limbo,
or waiting
in purgatory,
or for surgery,
or autopsy
to know, to have
final say-so…

Is it the light and shadows
that determine
if each, or collectively,
are worthy
to keep their sweet
olfactory hold
on our soul,
or simply the decision
of a heart to cradle
or let go…?