The other night as I drifted off to sleep
With tiny quiet dread, my heart whispered to me
A wicked truth newly discovered:
The author and site owner can be reached at leeundercedartrees@gmail.com.
The other night as I drifted off to sleep
With tiny quiet dread, my heart whispered to me
A wicked truth newly discovered:
Wolves at night
Charging under the black
Glitter-stars above
Dinner-plate moon lighting our way
We froth at our jowls
We’ve never felt hunger like this before
…
Emboldened by past success,
I stand firm but unfrozen when I see it.
If it wakes, will it give chase?
Will it toy with me, or pursue to kill?
The quiet peace brings forth
The familiar forest sounds that soothe:
The wind that makes it to the branches,
The birds chirping for each other,
The rustling of hungry deer in the brush.
…
Words to tell my stories
Words to tell them why
Words to give names
To what flows through my underground
…
I have a roommate that I wish would move away. But it won’t, so I have to learn to coexist with it.
Cold winter stillness
Blues and whites under night skies
Quiets a wild heart
Under cedar boughs
How long can I continue
Half living, half dead
She’s dizzy, weak
She’s heavily wounded
Yet miraculously she stands
On shaking legs
Spitting bitter iron
Coughing, dazed, stumbling
With broken bones
Into arms of those who came
To her when she needed them most
The wet sand that cushioned her
When she fell so far
The sun that hid from her
In the cobblestone square
The moon that couldn’t find her
Sitting at her warm table
The snow that didn’t touch her
But saw her through that window
And the friend who could read her
Who could hear and see right through her
May be the only ones who really
Know her stories
Maybe that’s enough
After all, as this new day ends
She’s still standing
December 5, 2024
12:15 a.m.
A Daydream Aggressive
A Daydream Decisive
A Daydream Gently Ending
Some days I get a little angry.
Some days I get a little rebellious.
I don’t know why.
Some days I get extremely angry,
almost enraged,
and I still don’t know why.
My metaphors are odd, mismatched
My word choices are unusual, maybe nonsensical…
This is temporary.
This is temporary.
This is temporary.
Someday soon you will be able to write about happy things again.
Someday soon you will laugh, and make someone laugh, again.
Don’t give up. Don’t lose hope.
Just hang in there a little longer.
I promise, you’ll feel better.
Of course, that won’t last forever, either. You’ll be back. Nothing lasts forever. Take comfort in that.