I don't have patience for poetry tonight
Yet, poetry is all I have
You see, he stripped me of my dignity
Played me like a fiddle (for nothing more than a diddle)
Made me feel ridiculously small
Despite the fact that I'm ten-feet tall

He's not the first
And surely won't be the last
For, I am The Fool
(especially when it comes to a good-looking tool)
He felt like a message from above
A gift delivered on the wings of a dove

So, with one tiny feather I now must fly
Across a battered and bruised sky
My pen, it doth but weep
Whilst I do my best to find lost sleep
Tell me, Lord, are all men sheep?
And, when was I appointed Lil' Bo Peep???
 
The house grew dark today
A storm rushed in
And sheets of rain blurred the sky
As I struggled to make eloquent strides
In efforts to regain his heart
Though I'm not sure that's terribly smart

I can't help but wonder
*in the distance, the rolling of thunder*
If insecurity is the "why"
Behind inaction's dulcet cry
I guess I'll never fully understand
The desire to treat a person like a rubber band

There's no need to pretend its love
Even if you did fit like a glove
Unless, of course, it was...
And you just couldn't handle the buzz
You set me up to fail
When you decided to bail

A word of warning, dear heart
It takes two to tango, even when apart
Justice will rule the day
And in the end, we all must pay
Fair is fair and right is right
Regardless of how dirty you fight

Oh yes, I fell and fell hard
But I guess it wasn't in the cards
Alone I am and alone I'll stay
Until I get my "one day"
Never settle for less than you're worth
For, when you do, there can be no mirth

I suppose "connections" can be predictable, tired and dull
*cue Hamlet holding an empty skull*
A Handmaid's Tale it seems to be
While Colin Kaepernick takes another knee
Anyone else spot that red flag?
Why is life such an awful drag???

Just once I'd like to see
Love make a bee-line straight for me...


#TheFool

I watch the winds whip at the stalwart pines amidst sheets of steely rain from the safety of my perch. The sound of windchimes creates an oddly calming musical chorus punctuated by deep rumbles of thunder and quick, bright flashes of electricity. 

Oh yes, a storm is coming....

Earlier in the day, I stumbled from my bed to peer out of the sun-filled back window. A herd of deer "called" to me,  asking for fresh apples. Six days ago, there was white-out snow pelting my car, yet today, it's blisteringly hot and oppressively humid. The air, so thick that when you breathe it in, you can feel it press hard against your chest like the night nurse after my last craniotomy.

I gave him the finger, too.

Walking in untied sneakers down the stairs, still in my pajamas (butterflies magically flitting hither and tither across the smooth sky-blue fabric), I filled the hem with apples from the glazed garden pot in the pantry. One of the fawns tentatively approached as I tripped my way outside into the heat. She was gaunt. Half-starved, even. The others seemed to hold back, enjoying the shade provided by the pines, as the thin one took her fill. 

Two nights ago, a young stag I'd encountered before returned. That's very unusual. But I noticed his markings; he was one of the babies born in my lily-bed from a previous year. It explains why he trusted me. Trusted me enough to come back again. That happened in October, too. Another stag, but of a different nature.

It was brutally cold during the full moon cycle last weekend. Below freezing. In May. During a pandemic. Hell freezing over came to mind more than once....

In the present, the rain has finally stopped and the wild winds have died down. The light is an eerie greyish-pink as night struggles to set in against the Sun's hold over the sky. I opened all the windows in the house to let the fresh air in. There's still a breeze blowing and every once in a while, the prayer flags I tied outside yield and bow in a dance set to the music of the chimes. It catches my eye and I feel a little sense of joy knowing my wishes for the world are being released.

Three retrogrades this week alone and I find I can't sleep. Even when it's cold, I'll sit out in one of the white-washed Adirondack chairs, watching the stars shift and shimmer. The moon is at 90-degrees now challenging my ability to see the last of the eta Aquariids, whose celestial position was at 22:47 this year. Synchronicities seem to follow me with the same regularity as the tides....

Ah, how I miss my ocean! This year, the beach house will remain empty. By the end of every summer my hair loses it's color, except, of course, for the dark roots. My skin turns a deep golden brown and freckles sprinkle across my cheeks and over my nose. I'm inevitably thinner, too, being an avid ocean swimmer. Once I go in, I only come out for sharks, darkness, or because I'm utterly frozen (and starving) after swimming in the deep Atlantic with the mink whales near the hook of Massachusetts, my blue umbrella now imperceptible. And the house, a mere blur.

The light on Cape Cod is unlike anywhere else on the planet. The private beach behind the house curves along the coastline, stretching into a hazy impressionist-like painting dotted with brightly colored umbrellas. But it's not just Cape Cod that I miss. It's Boston. And, Fenway. Sitting on the third-base line. The smell of popcorn and peanuts and beer scenting the evening air as the lights come up on the Green Monster, CITGO flashing in the distance as I wax nostalgic about my son's first Red Sox game on the 4th of July, fireworks lighting up the night sky. I miss walking along the Charles on a sunny day, watching the waves part like the Red Sea for the Harvard rowers heading back to the boat house. The Back Bay skyline rises up behind it, with the Pru and Copley calling me home. I even miss the traffic on Storrow Drive.

But I can't think of any of the above without my heart audibly breaking inside me. It's funny how flesh-and-blood feels like glass when it breaks, tiny shards lodging under your skin, resting there. Reminders of your past, as well as the pain awaiting you in future. 

Darkness descends in my world....

The night sky calls out to me. Maybe I'll catch some of the last Lyrids as they streak across the velvet pitch. If I sit still long enough, the herd will bed down along the treeline while I'm there. Of course, that means I can't up again and is at least part of the reason why I rarely go to bed before dawn these days. My faithful furry companion promptly waking me every two hours once I do, just to keep me on my toes. 

This is the first summer I won't see the ocean. It hasn't fully set in yet...the reality. I think I fell in love with someone because his eyes are reminiscent of the cold Atlantic.That's not the only reason, but the pull to him is akin to an incredibly strong current, threatening to drag me out to sea. Luckily, I know how to swim.

My Cancerian heart would have it no other way. And, my Scorpio soul heartily agrees. Neither are at home unless connected to water.

It's strange to be ocean on the inside yet appear as fiery as the Sun itself on the surface. The summer residents of Cape Cod believe my feet turn into fins in the water, a silvery trail of minnows forever encircling me, jumping into the air to sparkle for a moment in the sunshine as we go. Not even broken bones stopped me from swimming out beyond the sandbar, to the fishing boats. 

No, I don't give up. Nor do I give in. I think that's called integrity.... 

#OceanEyes

It was six months
On the sixth
Six. Months.
The Scorpio has a theory
Her cards say you're in pain
Projecting previous people
On my face, like a movie screen
But I'm not entertained
Are you???
It's not pride 
I swallowed mine in March
To give you a proper goodbye
So you could say hello again
But I kept thinking of things I'd forgotten to say...for three more weeks!
Has that ever happened to you?
Looking backward, things seem different
You seem different
You're in love with me...I know
That moment when you were in the chair and I walked out of the bathroom, right?
Madly, truly, deeply on my end, too
Silence speaks
Can you hear it?
I can...
I know things are complicated
And I know you still have miles to go before you sleep
But I also know you look for me 
Read me
See my pictures
And smile that smile
You cry, too
But I'm not going anywhere
Nor am I looking for anyone...just you
Whenever you're ready
I'll listen
No judgement
Just love
Compassion
Kindness
You're safe (in my heart)
To exist
To breath
To expand
To live
To love

It's a gift...love
Like my life
And, yours
You've certainly changed mine

There's no deadline
No rush
Breathe
Relax
Real love is limitless
Unconditional
You can take your time
Get your bearings
Think things through...again
You don't have to worry
I'm here

No matter what....

The stag wandered toward me
At first, I thought it a dream
The yellow-faced moon, big bellied
Full of fertile wishes 
Including mine own (and not mine own)

But two hardened hooves pounded into the newly thawed ground
With a loud HUFF, the horned stag tilted
Announcing his charge
That's when I stood up in challenge
Tall and proud and unafraid

​Just then, the stag stopped cold
Taking two steps back, he maintained eye contact
Bowing and bobbing his head
He did that three times 
Before I extended an open palm

My head, bowed low like my lithe body
My arms, stretched wide, like a bird in flight
The stag took a step closer
Swaying as he approached
Ah...the ancient dance had finally begun!

The stars faintly twinkled above 
As greyish clouds swept across the whispering moon
The new leaves of the Crimson King brustled at my boldness
But Michael, hovering just above the tree line
Let loose a feathery token of his pride

It floated down between me and the stag
I curtsied low to pick up my prize
As I did, I felt the stag's breath on my neck
Even the moon half-hid behind the pines in that moment
But it was part of the dance....

My hand naturally went up to the stag's flank
My hair, brushing the crest of his chest
As I continued to rise (and rise...and still, I rise)
My eye met his
The moon rested there, reflecting back at me as if mirrored in the surface of a still pond

Just to see me
See me dance
Dance with a stag
In the moonlight
Under the stars

The wild wind picked up
Whipping around my tiny house on a hill
That's when the feather flew from my hand
Catching in my nest of curls
As a tiny bat bravely fluttered by 

With barely a sound, the stag (and his white tail) ran down the hill
But just before disappearing into the forest
He stopped
Turning toward me,
He bowed his hoary, heavy head

Closing my eyes, bending low at the waist
I returned the favour
But when I stood again, the stag vanished into the night
I was alone 
Except for the moon...and, Michael

Smiling down at me
Like he did the first day we met
In the old farm field
After I lost my daughter
After I lost many things

Never my wings though...
Invisible as they are
They still drag on the dusty ground behind me
Permanently stained at the tips
Streaked with blood...and many, many tears.