a lullaby for the cosmos…

I have been puttering at painting lately
In the evenings
Swirling things
Playful dreams
Just because.
I think I should try my hand, my brush,
At an elephant and a lotus blossom 
A morning is a funny thing,
Sort of where it begins
And how.
Why does this thought take hold
And not another.
I send a wish through sleepy eyes
Crawl out from the covers,
Sometimes begrudgingly
Usually with a note of what will come next
And, it does come next.
Those morning moments unfold
One beyond another..


Coffee, but not too much
A candle flame warms the darkness, but not too much
A zebra pen pauses over an empty savannah, but not for too long.
Lemonade and lotus blossoms..
I can’t quite stop thinking of them
Lotus blossoms and lemonade
They’re just there is all
In my wanderings, and they sound so lyrical together
Tart yellow citrus and a hearty flower
…the blossoming of enlightenment 
Mostly, I like the song they sing together 
But, I shall keep them close this day to see if they have another gift.
Everything becomes a piece of music to me
I’m not certain why
Nevertheless, I am grateful 
For the rock and the jazz, the country and the classical 
I love it all…



Today is Thorsday 
The day of Thor
Which sets me to conjuring a realm
Full of mythos and legend 
I cross the rainbow bridge
And climb into the world tree
I love that image
Of a world tree
With roots and branches reaching in every direction
So much farther than I could ever see
Home to an infinitude of life
Nearly unfathomable to me
Yet, I try to fathom it.
A gentle smile comes over me
As I imagine so many animals
From tiny to enormous 
Gentle giants and busy scurriers 
I suspect humans are the scurriers.
Have you ever watched an elephant
Listening to Beethoven
Played on a piano 
In wide open spaces..


How I would dearly love to spend my days in such a way as that
Making beautiful music for elephants 
How worthy…of time..
Imagine..zillions of elephants 
Living in the world tree
Swaying peacefully 
To the sounds of Moonlight Sonata 
The whole tree rocking with them
And, all the little ones 
Drifting to sleep
Under a midnight sun 
And a noontime moon
In the protective embrace 
Of the mighty world tree
…a lingering lullaby
For the whole cosmos…

suzanne
❤️
****
ellie894 January 30, 2020

I have decided!



I have decided,
To build The Wall.
It will keep Me in.
And, keep You out.
Yes!  It is a fine idea.
I have been counting the virtues of it,
..for quite a while.
Now, the time has come to build it, once and for all.
I have bricks and mortar piled up in the east.
Steel beams and girders are stacked in the west.
The plans are drawn out.
And, I shall begin this very day.
The Wall will be ginormous! 
It shall be taller than You can climb over, 
And, longer than I can walk around.
The Wall will change everything.
It will keep You out. 
And, keep Me in.
We will be safe and sound,
From each other.
There will be No more tea and cookies shared,
No more needless laughter,
No more such silly and dastardly things,
That get in the way,
Of being cynical and cranky.
There will be,
No more smiles to cheer Your day, 
Or hugs to remind Me that I am loved.
But, by golly We will have..The Wallllllllll
Standing between Us!
..that delightful wall..
Despicable….wall….
…..keeping me in..
.and you out………….
I wonder if I can return steel beams and piles of bricks..
I wonder if I can exchange them, 
For Flower seeds,
And sapling Trees,
To grow a Garden, 
Instead of a wall.
You see…
I have already begun to miss you so,
So…so…that dastardly wall,
It really must go.
I have decided!
I will not build it! 
Not now! 
Not ever! 
We will sow
We will plant
We will grow
Maples and pines
Sunflowers and roses
Lilies and lavender
Morning glories and moon flowers
And all manner of beautiful things…
Then,
We shall rest in the shade of the pines.
And…
There we will be..
You and me…
Over cookies and tea…
without any walls, 
And how very lovely that will be.

****
ellie894 January 20, 2020









and the wind came…

**
Nearly a whole moon ago
I lazed beneath a crystal blue
And above a glittering shimmering
One reflected in the other
As it came to be the same with me
Memory waltzed with thought
In a seamless dance of spirit
Three quarter time
In tune with the breeze
And with me
Once
Twice
And three times again
A butterfly
Appeared to the right of me
A monarch surprise
Wherever he came from
I know not
Which doesn’t matter much anyway
It is only special
That he found me
At the heart of a special day
Once
Twice
And three times again
I was mesmerized 
So out of place he was
Suspended between blue and blue
With no field and no flowers
Anywhere in sight
Leading me gently to ask why
Once
And twice
And three times again
As the wheel of life does turn 
Upon itself
So did he
To me
His wings sang of sunset
A feast of a thousand peaches
Ripened in an evening sky
He did not float in still air
Nor, did he fly strong and purposely
He was a winged mystery 
Powerless
In the face of the invisible 
Not fighting against the unseen
Instead, he let himself just be
And the wind came
And carried him 
To all the places 
He could never have imagined 
For himself.
Then, ever so gracefully,
Once
Twice 
And three times again
He fluttered near
And carried me there too…

****
ellie894 November 4, 2019
there was a butterfly that day, a stunning peachy tangerine one. Out of place. Three times he came to me from nowhere, over the water, under the sky and out of the breeze.

can a sweater be like a tango…

I want to begin with a where,
And a why,
And a sort of a how.
I want to tell you that the light is soft,
Whether it is the flicker of a candle or the glow of a lamp.
I want to tell you of the music,
As a piano dances, a violin takes to the sky and lyrics sink into the depths of me.


I want to tell you of my sweater,
The long gray one that falls to the backs of my calves, 
that sways with my every move, 
much like a tango, 
only with a more subtle flair.
Can a sweater even be like a tango…  
I wrote that over and again last night,
And deleted it each time.  
Yet, here I am writing it once more. 
Perhaps it wants to be written, and wants to be told. 
There are other thoughts too, 
Moments of nothing but cloudy mist,
Afternoons weary from searching 
The edges of dawn blushing at the very thought of what may be,


And, the way I love coffee with cream
In a small cup 
First thing.
And later in the day, tea
Also in a small cup
Sweetened with a touch of cane sugar
And stirred rhythmically 
With my favorite spoon.
Do you know why I love a small cup?
Because, I sip more than I drink,
I savor more than I gulp.
I like my brew hot…
Too big of a cup, and it goes…
…cold
It’s not meant to be cold,
It’s meant to be…
….hot,
…and steamy and bold.
So that the cup may warm my hands,
As the brew warms my soul…
That’s the way it’s meant to be,
Warming,
As the sun upon my face
As the love within my heart,
My hands hold gently
My lips kiss the edges
And I am embraced by the heat
So very completely…
That’s the way it’s meant to be
Hot…


****
ellie894 November 14, 2019





faded colors, sweet potatoes and a shower of champagne…

July 14, 2019

Despite the heat,

I have been outdoors

For the last two days

Tending

To roses

And grasses

And trees

The sunny dappled garden of my days

I even dug in the dirt

To plant the already sprouting

Sweet potatoes

I offered them a better home

Than their pantry basket

Did you know

If given the chance

They make a lovely vine

The tendrils are delicate

The leaves decorous

And the green is decidedly delightful

So it was

That I was

Tired and sore

And, I almost did not walk last evening

But,

I changed my mind at the last

And went ahead anyway

How happy I am for it

For whatever carried me to there

Away from my to dos

And into the fields

Tended by their own dear sky

A wind blew cool from the north

A welcome respite in a Texas July

Bringing along

Snowy whites and threatening grays

It surprised me

And caught me

In a bubbly sparkling rain

How still I stood

To listen

To a thousand fairies

Dancing from leaf to leaf

In joyful innocence

Open the eyes of your heart

Their silvery wings whispered to me

And so I turned

From beneath the cover

And protection of the juniper

To see

An enchanting bow of faded colors

Filling the air with hope

And my dreams with surrender

I imagine it to be a circle

And wonder where it travels to

Beyond where I can see

Into a brightest elsewhere

Of love’s eternal hide and seek

How very grateful I am

That wonder called to me

And I listened…

Behind every poem is a fullness of thought. So it is with this one. On a July day, I planted sweet potatoes. I walked to a hilltop where rain caught me. I marveled at a rainbow arching over field, forest and home. And, I listened.

Recently I read a small book about cultivating silence. Thinking about silence suddenly makes you keenly aware of all the sounds that you hear. Silence reminds me to listen.

Even though everyone, including me is bestowing Happy Autumn wishes, it is still summer in Texas. It’s nearly October and this very minute I hear the sound of the sprinkler rhythmically turning under the holly tree, splashing everything in its path.

Hummingbirds are performing a brilliant “cirque de soleil”. I am the lucky soul with a free front row seat! They twitter and hum as they playfully zip-zing and then rest for a time among the prickled leaves. The hummers eat more in September than at any other time of the year. I think it’s because they’ll leave me soon. They’re fattening up before their long journey. I wonder what their tropical getaway looks like and whether they miss the holly tree.

Those sweet potatoes that I planted are so cheerful! If I can keep Jack and Dobby from romping through them they will grow all the way into December. I giggle that I find so much to love about them. You see, I’ve never liked to eat sweet potatoes. When I was a child I couldn’t stand them no matter how deliciously you dressed them up. Even marshmallows made no difference to me.

Gosh Mimi, those sweet potatoes smell good.

Would you like some, suzanne?

No thank you.

In truth I probably made a squinchy face and said Blech as they were heaped on my plate. If only I had had Bo back then. He would have sat blissfully at my elbow scarfing down every yucky bite I snuck to him. But, that’s a story for another day, aptly titled – The Dog Eats Half My Food!

Now, I eat sweet potatoes twice a year. They’re fine. But, I will never be a fan.

However, I do love to watch them grow. They create a twirling elegant vine. In autumn I buy them fresh at farmers’ roadside markets. Some I cook. The rest wait to be planted the following spring. I know, July is nowhere near spring. I was incredibly late this year. Nevertheless, in the ground they went.

I didn’t have very high hopes for them. After all, we were heading into the hottest driest part of the year. Who plants anything in July?! This year, I did. And, you know what? They have grown above and beyond my expectations. They are the happiest little patch of heart shaped leaves and curling tendrils that you can possibly imagine. They have spread like a low lush forest. You never can tell who might be playing in there…

Back to that July afternoon –

There was rain! Fluffy clouds rolled in and surprised me. It hinted of champagne. A cork joyously popped!! Bubbles spilled over the edges and the sky winked at me as if there was something special about this moment. And there I was caught right in the lovely center of it. I can still hear the drops cascading around me in my secluded hilltop waterfall.

There was a rainbow! Have you ever noticed how silent they are. Not a single sound. They come and go without ever crying out or begging to be seen. How many do we miss because we are occupied in thought or in doing. But this one…I heard. In its own gentle voice it rhymed and sang and invited me to dance. The colors gathered me and sailed me to far away places…into enticing dreamscapes as I wondered where its other half might be. I stayed and stayed not wanting to miss a single tender hue or precious step.

And, then there were sweet potatoes. They lay quietly in their dark underground cavern listening…to the earth and the rain and the colors of the rainbow telling them All that they would become…in time.

The last few months have been parched. I don’t have an answer. Sometimes life is like that. Dry and dusty. You wait, for rain and for hope to come. In the meantime, you do what you can. Turn on the sprinkler. Enjoy the hummers. Be someone’s rainbow. And, listen to the sweet potatoes grow…

May your spirit find refreshment in listening to the soft and silent things that touch your heart.

Suzanne ❤️

****

ellie894 September 29, 2019

Note there are no photos of actual sweet potatoes or casseroles in this post because…you know, reasons. 😉

on the night swing…

On the night swing

Silence reigns peacefully…

One, two, three…

I begin to count the stars,

Soon, I realize there aren’t nearly enough.

Where did they get away to,

Did they become wishes,

And did they come true…

With an upward gaze and an open heart,

I fly from here to soar the heavens

And tiptoe there among them.

They sparkle with a surety and a grace

That sends me back through time

Into a shining darkness of uncountable nights.

Ones that came before so many counterfeit lights of man.

There was an age

When stars outnumbered the neon glow.

I miss it much…

Do those that are left in the heavens look to us now,

In mystery, as we do them.

Are they intrigued by our sparklers of one kind and another.

Do they surmise that some of their very own

Have fallen into this dusty corner of space…

…to enchant us mere women and men…

…maybe.

Is that how a wish is born,

Does a star choose to fall,

Because it heard the distant whisper of a thought…

It hopes,

And draws close,

Close enough to listen…

To the stories of you and me.

…maybe.

But, I ask,

Do they still enchant us,

Or have we replaced them

With something that will never be real.

Desire beckons to me

To find a somewhere

Where once again, the lights of us are few to none,

And the stars are free

To reign in silence

From their own celestial home

Where they belong….

****

ellie894 September 8, 2019

in the heart of every moment…

The music beckoned to me

To go

So I went

In search of what

I cannot be sure

But, when I came to rest

Deep within the soul

Of my own belonging

I looked down to my feet

Planted firmly upon the sturdy ground

And what to my enchantment

Did I find there….

…but an ancient,

primeval forest…

A wildness beyond my imagining

As near as my touch…

It contained its own bewildering completion

Before it would ever even begin

I am mesmerized

As I leave it behind me

Will it stay there

Where I first found it

Or will it travel farther than far

To become all that it was meant to be

The music beckons to me

To go on

So I go

Wondering as I do

At how many moments in a day

Hold the vast possibility of everything

Yet, we move too quickly

To know they are there

I see a primeval forest

At home in the depths of your gaze

I see an ancient universe

Dance in the sparkle of your smile

In the heart of every moment

Eternity is hoping

To become the love story

That it was always meant to be…

****

ellie894 July 30, 2019

Listening to Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony

in a moment of forgetting….

When I look into the sky

I feel the reassuring blue

Embrace me gently

And the softness of the clouds

Settle in my soul

When I look into the water

I feel the sky there too

And for a moment I forget

That it is water and not sky

Until a dragonfly dips for a sip

Or a faery lands unnoticed

Or a silvery fish

Arises from the depths

In much the same ways

As a raindrop rests on the cloud

Or an eagle soars the breeze

Or a wishing star falls

Into an open heart

The two worlds, a mirror of each other

There are ripples then

That make it seem

That the wind blows

Among the reflected trees

But it doesn’t

They are as serene and peaceful

As they were moments ago

When I remember it is water that I see

I lose myself in wonder

At what magic

Falls and flies within it

That is as yet

Quite invisible to me…

****

ellie894 July 2, 2019

tucked away…

I often write things

that I fear are not worth reading

So, I tuck them neatly away

Fragile thoughts folded in upon themselves

The words fade and the pages yellow

As a memory floats into view

*

…of being ten years old

picking blackberries

in a blazing Texas summer sun

no clouds, no shade, no wind

while my cheeks burn red

my pail remains nearly empty

as i search endlessly

hand to mouth

for the One…

you know which I mean

the One that brightens your lips

in a triumphant juicy smile

of sweet buried treasure

once lost

now found

I eat far more than I put in my pail

it remains nearly empty

so tomorrow

there will be no cobbler

or biscuit jam

tonight

there will be no need of dinner

or dessert

only a cool bath gently run

to soothe my fiery skin

the search was everything

it filled me and fed me

left me weary

in the nicest of ways

sleep will surely come

claiming me for its restful own…

*

Tucked away somewhere

Are some yellowed pages bearing faded words

That I should wander through

It is time

To take them out of hiding

Unfold them

And see if anything has ripened

Sweet enough

To fill a nearly empty pail

Perhaps,

In the morning

We shall have biscuits with blackberry jam

And in the evening

Warm cobbler with cold ice cream

And after that,

When the stars come forth to shine

And the fireflies begin their nightly tango

We shall sleep the weary peaceful sleep

Of being ten years old

At the end of a perfect summer’s day

****

ellie894 June 4, 2019

at the ruffled edges…

How often do I wonder

If I am too much

Or not even enough…

…strong the drums begin

listen well and let go my love…

let go and listen well…

Oh…for the feel of the music

…flowing into the depths of me

….comforting the silence of my soul

Can you hear the mockingbird

Dancing along the ivory keys

From black to white….

…and now again…

Gently a splash of turtles

Pleases and eases in the fulsome pauses

While at the ruffled edges

Frogs resound deep as cellos,

And full with moonlit meaning

Eagle spreads wide her wings

Gracefully taking to the heights of the open skies

Calling softly to her lover above the violins

As though she was meant to be there all along

… at last…

a sensual harmony of lost enchantment

…am I at the very heart of it

….or is it at the very heart of me…

…the rhythm echoes

within…with…in…

Until, I am no longer my own

….but, yours my love

a starry midnight note

in the forever of your painted song…

**

I come to rest near the water’s edge at evening. Van Gogh’s Starry Night in my mind’s eye. Beethoven harmonizes well with the soulful sounds of the woods behind me. Ebudae too. And, I am carried far away to lovely places within my heart.

****

ellie894 May 14, 2019