January Snow

Snow used to cause
so much anxiety in my body.
I could never appreciate 
the beauty of January snow,
all I focused on the harm
it could bring to me.
Now I pause to admire
the quiet of a morning
with the snow falling.
The years have taught me
to trust myself traveling.
Roads will be cleared
in time to venture out.
Drive slow on snowy roads
I will make it back home.

So It Goes

By the water
along the road
I follow my steps
or so it goes.
The little things
pass the time
try to find
magic in the ordinary 
sanity in the chaos. 
I find the magic 
but questions left unanswered 
for I cannot see
the full picture 
yet I remain steady
for all I can control is
me, myself, and I
somehow I have sanity
out of the way 
out of the weeds
of grief that lingered
heavy, of depression 
that left me treading.
Solid is the land I live
in learning to love myself
through all the sensitivity
and all the big feelings.
I am here, I am breathing,
I keep quiet in my being,
it’s how I feel them freely.

Dial

Changing the dial 
on the stories 
we tell ourselves. 
Choosing positivity 
over spiraling. 
Embracing exhaustion
when sleep doesn’t come, 
thankful for warmth 
of our bodies. 
Sometimes the mind
chooses to race, 
let it run 
for eventually 
it will circle 
back around.

Sea Foam

The bubbling sound 
of the sea 
lingers in the 
below-freezing air 
as it hits the rocks 
covered in a light 
dusting of morning snow. 
It reminds me of soda. 
Winter. The changing of 
weather patterns 
makes my body repel 
from outside activity 
but I seek out the sea 
regardless for its beauty 
and mystery compels me to it,
gratitude bubbles to
the surface of my being,
like soda, the sea foam of
believing in what is
is what will be.

In-Between

The week in-between
holidays is quiet. 
Everyone unsure of what 
they should be doing,
little work to get done. 
The northern hemisphere 
has frozen over, it’s pretty
to look at but cold
to go into. The days of 
the year
come to a close, I am
grateful for all
that has happened,
thankful there’s more
to come.

POV

For Patti Smith

Your work opened doors
in my mind I hadn’t seen before.
The gratitude your words
gave me to make sense of
what being an artist is
will forever be ingrained
in my thought process.
For it gave me a place
to put my feelings 
instead of holding the weight,
I write, and let it go.

Outer Edge

Here is where I find myself —
in the patience of a moment
detached from beginnings or ends
simply being on the outer edge
of the morning.
I fold my legs under my desk
the way I’ve done since I was
in kindergarten, crisscross
applesauce chants in my head.
Slowly, I write as I focus
on breath holds to combat any
anxiety ruminating on the outset.
I lose my mind in my thoughts
only to paddle back a while later
through writing a poem about a dream
maybe one day I’ll share.
This is the anchor to my day,
I breathe in steady watching
snow fall on a Sunday, it doesn’t
feel like a Sunday as if Sunday
had a particular feeling to
attribute to it.

First Snow

The beginning of a new era
snow has quietly graced us
with its ever loving presence.
I admire the flakes falling
while taking the time
the following day to
dig out my car from
the blanket it left behind.
At sunset, I see through
the leaveless trees
as we drive I admire
the change that brought us
back to the end of
the year in preparation
for the next.

In Motion

The cycles of life -
trees lose their leaves
the sun sets mid-afternoon
laundry needs to be cleaned
a poem is written within minutes
enjoy the moment even when
it's a mundane task
appreciate the beauty in
the bare trees
catch the sunset
if you're facing east
at 4 PM