Words are lost in a
  world too big for
small things...

  small things like molding
sand castles with moats,
questing for cowrie,
  pen, and jingle shells,
laughing at wet sand
 between toes...

  small things like cooking
with sesame and poppy seeds,
  drawing orange spring poppies, 
singing a loved one awake in the morning,
  kissing someone on the nose.

A little blue box holds
  pearl earings and all
elements of the sea,
  or a dark chocolate truffle
and all elements of earth,
  or a haiku, with all
elements of condensation
  found.
  .

Too sleepy to write.
  The screen, bright-white
as a full moon in my
  half-dreamy night.
The illusory, moving moon 
  like the turning of a page,  
the closing of a book,
  of my eyes before I have
barely started, being
  too sleepy to write.

  
  

You, Peter, are my friend and Lord of the Marsh.
  Michael is my love and Lord of Music.
Jim is my brother and Lord of the Mountains.
  Sheri is my sister and Lady of Friendship.
Sarie is my daughter and Lady of the Animals.
  Eve is my mother and Lady of Beginning.

It is you, who are building a bridge
  across the marshland, balanced
and generous, as you said you would.
  You build for everyone
to cross into the realm, where
  love abounds and peace fills
every heart.  You do not need
  this bridge you are building,
flying on gleaming turquoise wings.
   You say my wings are growing!
If that is true, it is partly 
  because of you.

It is also you, who rekindled,
  the world in me where we all are
lords and ladies, where the sea
  is my lady and the sky my lord,
the bag lady is my lady, the president
  my lord, a Siberian tiger is my lord,
and I am Annabelle, Lady of the Woodland Lake,
  who sees music and poetry in everything.


 

lighting, rain, wind,
thunder, Beethoven!
outside my window -

Yoohoo -
Haiku!
There you are!

  In the library parking lot,
singing to heaven tenderly,
unraveling strand by strand,
pieces, layers, years of you.
Years of you melt in melody
like March snow and ice,
joys daffodils close behind.
  I sing to your frozenness, 
your melting and thawing, 
your smiling in Spring,
a loving tune that steadily mends.
  I sing baring flowers
of every hue on earth,
a fountain of gratitude,
of kindness for you.  
  In the library parking lot,
singing to heaven tenderly,
a song forever for you.

Creator, help me know what to say.
  He hates his world, he thinks is the world,
  and everything in it,
  she cries, missing her children,
  he wishes his parents would die.
Help me know what to say.
  She dwells on her abuser, handing
  him her power,
  he swears and screams about war,
  she says she's dying to die.
What do I say?
  She shouts at mockingbirds outside
  her window,
  he thinks I'm an angel, then asks for
  phone sex,
  he says You and the devil fight
  in his mind.
Oh Creator! help me know what to say,
the kind, best words to say,
so I can help them
and help me.