I catch a glimpse

of heaven

from here on the ground

where mortals fear

to tread, and

the audacity of it,

the wild blue abandonment

of its proclamation

gives me the courage

I will need

to stretch out these

broken wings

and fly…


Stripped of her beauty,

petals long gone,

crushed and bedraggled,

seasonal pawn.

Bereft of her progeny,

empty and worn,

broken, she multiplies –

a true star is born.


You cling to branch

as though it were entirely natural,

this blooming.

Do you know your lifespan?

Do you lie awake at night

in terror of what the morrow may bring?

Does the thought of a strong North wind

make you quake in your spring-boots?

Does the invasion of bee and bird not taunt and sicken you?

I see your fragility,

and it breaks me.

But you nod and smile

and bloom

and give all in the giving

and I am undone,

knowing which of our fragilities

is the more broken…