Glass Portals

If I have to have walls,
give me windows
big and bright
where shadows can dance for hours
with the light,
windows that open
wide
to invite the breezes
inside.
In all mental-health seasons, 
I so easily slip away
for days,
lose myself 
in those sunny sills
and rainy panes, 
faraway thoughts
that need not be
sorted nor restrained;
even my muses need
a holiday. 
The spaces inside
my dwelling fade
in comparison 
to the glass
and screens I need
for my soul 
to not suffocate.
If I have to have walls, 
give me windows
through which to endlessly 
escape.

Rooted to Trees

Tree-hugger for as long as I can remember
(my favorite nature companions),
known sky-and-cloud obsesser
to those who discover a drop of who I am.

I write of the sea
because I have been living by the beach,
and if my writing you currently read,
you know mountains aren’t my thing.

Wildflowers, especially white ones,
have become infused into my self-journey,
but if I could only keep just one,
I’d have to keep the trees.

Size does matter sometimes
for I need the large circumference,
and the older, the wiser, I find is true, 
(secret bias though toward non-coniferous).

In the national forest, 
I seek the inner grove, 
the largest sequoias I can find
so I can visit my soul’s home. 

A hand, a hug, upon the giants
fills my heart, and my authentic
smile naturally shows. 

Some and Me

Some were built for height,
some false with imitation bark,
some ill-fated by others’ fires, 
some have witnessed the sparks.

The dark, the light, 
rotates and falls 
upon each equally. 
Some were meant to 
sky-reach.
Some use the sun’s love
to bloom in delicate
and fleeting beauty.

At the feet of giant trees, 
with whom I have always
felt most rooted,
in white lace and ray’s kiss
still fresh on my crown,
I have never been so at peace
with who I’ve found
I’ve always been.

Wherever I go now,
it is me who I am. 

Poem and image ©LauraDenise

I Will Never Tire

I will never tire of

morning birdsong,

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the daily rising of the sun,

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the ways the rays 

beam between trees,

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the clouds that form

in such artistry,

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the freedom flaunted in wildflowers,

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all the colors of twilight hours,

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the breezes that rouse my desires,

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the stars that kindle my dreams afire,

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for as long as I am alive,

I will never tire

of these natural delights,

 

never tire

even when the seasons fade away,

for a spirit saturated in the natural

never decays. 

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Poem and images ©LauraDenise