Maureen Evans

Bloom yeast for bread, crush cabbage with summer's kraut — in snow scent the way home.

Each hour after dawn draws on birdsong never heard before you listened.

In my forest bed ear prickled by a spider I must await gone.

"Therefore they who know that enough is enough will always have enough." -Lao Tsu, Tao Te Ching

Let's close this distance, take the space to cast our stones and hands out, embrace.

As a child only the moon stroked my hair the full distance between us.

Feeling not fallen but fighting, not in place but upstream, flowing. Love.

Out of the smoke my hair down waves of peat dark bar where softness began.

Miracle of flights' uplifting foreborn fallen dreams fleet in my life.

Empty boxes, flour sacks, vials of ink to fill my outbound heart with home.

take time you haven't got, torn scraps for magic; how else get there, let go

Done, I looked around, found I'd resurfaced into the unexpected.

"Pie and coffee, please" — and the waitress' sweet toothed smile. "Strawberry shake."

I balk to pluck the best berries birds dash to bits singing, ca–nae–keeeeep!

Wind in trees, big band songs, my own shut eyed sway — slow dancing for this day.

Betide, my heart — the best laid plans lub dub, love — as every wave draws back.

Strength doesn't over react in flex; butterflies shoulder the world's winds.

Ne'er before, bitter nor sweet: craved before bloom, dreamed before I knew rest.

Busy missing the forest for the future (the future of trees, natch).

One thing love is to look from every perspective falling in anew.