moments

moments

Friday, March 1, 2024


 


There is something so hauntingly gorgeous in the witnessing of dying flowers: beauty surrenders.
Dropping petals and pieces, smells are pungent, carry memories of ones gone before. 
With the fading comes a softness: a gentle reminder of what one day shall be:
the giving back, the letting go, the last dance, the final fare thee well. 
xo


Monday, February 12, 2024


February 2024 


 

The four directions placed themselves, and I thought of the father, sun, sons, and ghosts. The woods called my name, and I raised my head and listened. No wind, only soft words coming from my heart. And still, I know I am an orphan to the ferns and spider webs. I am lost and found. Saved. 

And searching. xo

Friday, December 1, 2023







The above photo is one of many my son, Jesse Crossman, has taken. He has the eye and heart of a lover of nature and all things beautiful. I am honored to share the photo, as I am to share him with the world. I am honored to be the mother of children who pay deep attention to this sacred and special world and time. There is much grief, loss, and sadness to hold, yet if our moments can also be touched by one another, we can know we aren't alone; together, the weight of all things can be lifted toward the light. xo


 


October 2023 


October arrived in many ways : Tears in unexpected places at unexpected times
: There were holes in the morning glories : The window screens, and my heart

Not one thing caused any of these incidents: It was a season of too much
: Heat and hatred, death and dying, angst and anger, rain and rage

What do we call it now : Autumn, the letting go, the dead leaves underfoot 
: The knowing, the laying down of darkness, the silent way it arrives

Hold tight dear heart : Courage is within
xo

Wednesday, November 1, 2023

 


November 2023

Sometimes, the only thing bigger than a sky 
is the moment we remember it's there;
holding space, ever-changing, always shifting.


***

There was a time: Most of my life
I considered the sky to be blue, grey, or dark
but dark meant sleep, and grey meant sad,
and blue was a Crayola crayon. 
Blue was ocean, river, morning 
then my firstborn's eyes 
and that's when the sky flew open
and I knew I'd never be able 
to see it how it had once been.

xo





Tuesday, August 1, 2023

 





August 2023

Tomorrow is Dad's Birth Day 
he isn't here to celebrate
so many times and places 
I miss him; he's in my bones

I know little of cellular invasion
the parts of me I shared with Mom
I know more about DNA and fusion
but still so very little, tiny like 

the start of me, Dad playing his part
the joining of bodies and the magic
that made me whole, hopefully
But still, Dad is missed

xo

Monday, July 3, 2023


 July 2023

it's hot and humid
there are smells leftover from the dogs who died years ago
the towels are damp, and it's hard to pull on a pair of jeans
but we say it was a long winter and carry-on, and marvel
at trees laden with fat, bright leaves, the rain only knocking
the blossoms and the bees as they waddle in the sweetness
it's hot and humid
and I do not like it
xo