Sturdy Pockets
Hand me the matches ... sleep comes dropping slow now during our later years. The season is over and we together make the best of what we have been given ... between "purgatory of pure goodness" and "heavenly so grateful for this that we have been luckily given" ... the way we keep clothing that does not quite fit our personality but has sturdy pockets ... what we have is by far good enough ... Forest frost heat to dust of sands ... we have walked through all the temperatures a life can ask of two people ... and now another walk to Minnehaha ... the concrete staircase cliff here way before us is not sentimental ... Stopping for a few minutes is what the top platform is for ... Waters of some time after waterfall ... that pooling of some time after the fall ... the part of the river that remembers but is just holding ... We know that continuing ...
The field holds every year ... not in a line ... more the way soil holds roots ... somewhere still and moving ... We get lost in our own thirst for ruminations ... kindness without a ledger keeping score ... Our beloved little Carlos has always known ... running through the middle of it all shaking his feathery tail ...
When did we start believing in faith? Was it as a child outside in the sun before entering kindergarten? Loving you Honey is sweet and slow as heaven spaciousness. Above and below. Upstairs and in the luxurious basement bunker TV room. Us. From day before birthday leap-hop to next birthday.
Our sunny yellow bedroom with wedding photo on the wall there. Sheets just washed comforting our warm to cool skin to flesh to blood circulating. One kiss before falling asleep. Can quietness be enough? It sure can by far with you. Sharing, celebrating what life offers. Still alive or should I say instead living out every Godly wish the best we can every day. Full bodied. Blossoming frequently.
Eternal Stones, could this be enough for us? Enough peace and love for sure. We have watched government institutions splinter. If only they were all seasons green and more humble ... instead of serving out fever policy nightmares.
Soften that gaze a minute. Did you see the smirk on his face? As months swings to flies by like how ocean sound fails to slip through an elder gardener's cupped hands. Landscape stained color schemes of another year gone by as merciful documented and undocumented memories, there in all your cleared senses.
Candle cake plant and kite balloon birthdays are just a matter of time. And in a right side up world, we can not go backwards. You are poster child for growing old(er) gracefully ... and I am so fortunate to have you as my soul mate on this last long journey we are doing together.
What if we told you the cherries are always in bloom? You will never be this specific number of years old again ... only the youthful spirit you are every hour of every kind of shadow play. Cruise over the bridge light on the gas. There is no need to dwell on things that may not or may change how you want them to.
Our river keeps getting wider ... swelling like a Southern California tide, we stayed for the explorer's glide. There is a thing about light of tide and how it dances. From classroom to dining room Mother Earth calls your heart ( no strings attached ) and you always pick up.