Can the tale of sound be told?
Seen and felt instead of heard?
If it’s possible to do,
I offer you these words.

Fingers of breeze caress the trees, which move with sultry sway.
Quiet, sweet as honey, as dusk overtakes the day.
The blandness of night seasoned
By salty cricket’s rill,
The icy screech of waking owl, hastening evening’s chill.

Rainbow cacophony-chirping birds at dawn.
Sharp crimson of the cardinal’s whistling, wake-up song,
The electric blue of the jays first cry,
The dove’s muted, gray and mourning sigh.

Ripples of a child’s laughter, sea lapping sandy shore.
A penny’s lonely echo, meeting well’s empty floor.

If mixing all the senses could create a wish come true,
These words of sight would be reborn, visions of sound for you.

• There was no card for me this year
• That compared my eyes to the stars above.
• There was no card for me this year
• That professed undying love.
• And there was no card from me,
• That in turn proclaimed the same.
• For this year my marriage
• Is only my last name.

• It was I who left
• With eye bereft
• Of any falling tear.
• It was I who put the past behind
• In search of my new year.
• I went to him, not because of him.
• I only left for me.
• I sought myself,
• I sought my life,
• My own identity.

• I have been mother, child and wife,
• But have not been what I could be.
• For in the many roles I’ve played,
• I never have been me.

• Now I follow my heart
• And trust my soul
• And begin to sop the healing balm
• And begin to feel the inner peace
• Of raging spirit becalmed.

• Though tears still flow,
• The grief will pass
• My eyes will dry and start to see.
• My heart will mend.
• The pain will end.
• At last, I will know me.

• When the full moon smiles down on me,
• Don’t tell me it’s just a bunch of craters on a lifeless clump of dust.
• Let me have the man in the moon.
• Don’t take away the magic.

• When fireflies zig and zag through the night
• Don’t tell me they are just phosphorescent insects.
• Let me have the stardust.
• Don’t take away the magic.

• When the rainbow stretches gloriously across the storm ravaged sky
• Don’t tell me its colors come from sunlight refracted through moisture
• Let me have the bluebird on the other side
• Don’t take away the magic.

• I know that it’s right to be practical
• But you know it isn’t always practical to be right.
• Let me have the whimsy.
• Don’t take away the magic.

• Mind races towards tomorrow.
• Though when it becomes today
• It remains for only hours
• Then slips into yesterday.

• Living in today
• I stumble
• Like a drunk on a tightrope
• In new shoes.
• The slip inevitable.
• Falling, failing,
• All the same.

• I fall and fail and flail at air.
• Arms reach out.
• Unfeathered wings
• Fingers grasping at the string
• Elastic gossamer
• Fragile stretching
• Thread unraveling
• I look down to see
• The net of yesterday’s memory.