Following Flowers

I am fueled by storms
and coastal wind
as I raise my arms to each 
and channel them
until empowerment rises
boldly from within…

But it is in the still
and minute,
in the soft scent
of beautiful,
in the trust of subtle,
the barely discernible,
that I feel the forgotten
soothed,
those buried-alive
non-truths;
the golden elixir single ray
finding the torn petal
coats in those places
I am not able to ever reach
on my own. 

Up close and personal
is the only way I know
to heal my heart,
to feed my soul, 
and that, I believe,
is the path that leads
home. 

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Precious Petals

Across the street from the ocean,
I reside,
at my everyday disposal
are the almighty tides,
the aquahorizon
with no opposite end
that blends with the sky,
no greater reminder
of the bigger picture
beyond this life,
and it does indeed
soul-energize,
but I’ve always known
the humility
of how insignificant we are:
I seek instead
the intimate inner warmth
I find crouched among
the non-garden flowers
inspecting the finest details
neglected and trodden,
and through my lens and art,
I depict how they feed
my heart,
shared roots and seeds
organically free
yet universally tied,
turning our faces
peacefully
to the shared light,
the Higher Power
who sculpted us both, all,
with intention and without
society-judged flaws,
precision in individuality,
every living piece
lovingly kneaded,
and when the rays
find and kiss petals,
this is the beauty
that stills me
breathless,
to see in crafted detail
the miracles of His Creation
and how love was meant
to prevail in every season.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Hummingbird At The Pane

My heart sighed,
the exhale combined
with the incoming uplifting
screened spring breeze;

despite the birdsong,
my eyes welled up,
as I began to walk into
Sadness’s alluring stream…

But my nature friends
and forces always seem
to intervene!

To my pane came
a hummingbird who hovered
until I forgot
all of my soul’s woes

and again felt
Hope’s flutter
and the feeling
of not being
in this world
alone.

Despite it all,
life is truly beautiful
as long as there is
this Presence I feel
so connected to.

Cut me open. I don’t think
I will bleed.
I am sure
butterflies
will rise
out of me

and to the moon,
my essence return,
merging light
to warmly glow
in a belonging
forever.

Some Days

Full moon
still hides
parts of itself
from view.

Wildflowers
don’t always feel
like opening
up to bloom.

Not all
birdsongs
can be
cheerful tunes.

Stars may not
get to every
wish they accrue.

Some days
the water
vapor is unable
to make itself
cloud-plumes.

Seasons
of the heart
insist a sunny poet
take a respite
in the shade,

but earth shifts
and turns
and always brings
another new day.

Poem and images ©LauraDenise

Now and Then

City bound, 
experienced, birthed
in the bustle,
though now it binds
as my heart pines
for the last stretch 
of passed pastoral… 

before the SunPass,
in a time before tolls, 
passing the tractor
and grazing cattle. 

I count down the days
until I can back-peddle
to the split-rail fences, 
and enter through the rickety gate
to my soul’s haven.

Take me away and back
and leave me there; 
come ’round to call 
every now and then. 

Open Road

Open road gently unfolds,
morning stretches
between sheets of grandiose.

In excited anticipation,
my heart leaps up at every curve
as the sun rises in all its glory
and slowly churns

hues so bold and beautiful, 
highlighting the rolling hills
of clouds –– windows down,
hair blown, coffee in hand,
and hours to go.

I will never mind an open road,
man-laid black carpet
leading into the natural horizon
beneath God’s effulgent throne. 

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

Yellow Blooms

Yellow and white wild blooms
I insist remain nameless
I contemplate picking for you
to arrange in sill sunlit,
but I can’t do it;
I keep them rooted
but skim their scent
over fingertips,
and a fallen one tuck
in a long, silky tress,
face tilted up,
b r e a t h i n g  i n
this existence
in yellow floral dress;
the sun kisses shoulders,
and I sense your jealously
in our cottage
working remotely.
Heading back,
I hear the kettle whistling
cheerfully for me….