+ Her Barefoot Heart

How the Morning Unpacked Itself

Thursday, 13Nov14

One : 7:43 a.m.

Headinthecloudsthismorning

My head is in the clouds.
This is no metaphor.

~~~~~~~

Two : 8:07 a.m.

10minutewaitattheseednfeed

A 10-minute wait at the Seed ‘n Feed this morning.
Take a number, please.

~~~~~~~

Three : 8:09 a.m.

HereBirdieBirdieBirdie

Poof – just like that
the line is gone.
No more wait time.
Wonder why . . .

~~~~~~~

Four : 9:35 a.m.

Dancingflame

It is a plain white pillar candle
With a wick.
A birthday gift from my son and his fiancee.
Quite non descript.
Quite ordinary.
Quite easily overlooked.
Ah, but inside this plain white pillar candle
Is a woman.
A Fierce woman
A Knowing woman
A woman who is Enough unto her self.
Her flame dances with abandon
As the winds blow all around,
Falling nearly horizontal at times
But never ceasing to burn.
She will not be extinguished.
All the while leaving a trail of black smoke
That will stain the ceiling.
I am mesmerized.
Essence must surely be her name
As she only appears when all
The layers encasing her
Have been burned away.
I can’t wait to meet her.

~~~~~~~

Five : 9:52 a.m.

Flamecloth

I am reminded of this cloth
and how much fun I had
stitching it.
I was on fire, free.

1 Comment

  1. moonbeam

    are you sure her named isn’t Jeanne? or Love? or sparkle?
    You are the brightest light in my window…

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