Place

Remember the magpies

how he nicknamed them

“Orca Whale-bird”

Remember the foxglove 

violet tunnels enclosing 

traveling bees

Remember the deep base notes

of burning bog cut peat 

glowing crimson 

behind cracked glass

Remember our children 

like hobbits, lofted

poking blooming faces

through heart shaped cutouts

Remember the bleeding heart fuchsia 

sheltering over

the yellow hope of buttercups

Refuge

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When inside

becomes too much

and not enough

I hunt airspace

finding my balance

under stars

where the oxygen freely flows

in ample supply

under the night sky

my anxiety unwinds itself

reminding my fears

how small they really are

reminding my heart

how full it really is

as I cast my eyes upward

the celestial sky

drops its veil

peering back at me

blinking its thousand

silent eyes

Trail Closed

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The bridge isn’t sound
The one we traversed
A hundred times before
The sign is posted
We’ve been warned
And now a new path
Has been roughed in
One of soft mud
Tender earth
Virgin soil
We are sure to emerge muddy
Should we choose this
Over what we know
Our well worn
Unstable bridge
That one day
Is sure to give way
Under the weight
Of our stubbornness