first day of school today
my nephew wore a soft hoodie
he hugged me near white roses
while my old friend sang
and played a blue guitar
i stood here before
and before
but i’m not the same
poetry: today
Growth
poetry: bird talk
don’t yell at me
i see you just fine
from your perch
maybe i’m tired
or forgetting self
but don’t yell at me
poetry: don’t look
swallow down embers, me
disappear into peat smoke
if you can’t smooth out
turn obsidian again
don’t appear at all, me
nettle strewn carpet
break down another layer
elements shift again
duff becomes humus, me
sorry, can’t make it
shattering too messy
they were right
run away from, me
write until it stops
tiny seeds open
gravity threads again
split the bedrock, me
poetry: the tracks
sometimes train whistles hold hands,
warming palms.
preheating cast iron to cook eggs,
when bodies dream of pancakes.
poetry: abundance
talk to me about roundness,
the gravity where we cluster,
thick skin, soft insides,
held on a single wire.
poetry: rootbound
expose my roots in warm sunlight
soften all stems
let pearls fall
lean in closer
geosmin scented breath
see how twisted old thoughts grow
don’t go yet
shine through the particles
show me yours
poetry: this is good?
one time i stood
under a flowering pear tree
in my wild backyard
and thought, this is good.
it was warm
and i’d just finished nursing my baby girl.
she heavy-slept in a sling
on my freckled chest.
her hair was red
and my feet were bare.
poetry: feed me
lizards dart out of the bushes
every time I open the front door
rustling warnings when I don’t
need them. wrote the word
connection over and over within
lined pages of my green
goddess notebook, planning
return of self, for self, to others
or is it for others? today, tomorrow—
each day is another chance
for words to gather within
my apron pockets if only fingers
weren’t so tired. or
slippery. forgiveness given
when not asked for, makes arms
ache for something lost. no, never
was. illusions rustle whispering
here we go again, eat until full
this time. don’t worry about crumbs—
you don’t have to clean everything
everyone—
you can rustle too
whenever you want.
Photography: Women Are…
“She did not succumb to the battering of the brutal elements in her life. No, instead, with nourishment and strength from those surrounding her, and from her own deep, strong roots, she continued to grow; not just grow but thrive! So much so that she did not buckle under the weight that was not her own.”—Claudia
For the month of June, my model was my lovely friend Claudia. We met during sunrise, to avoid the heat, and our time together was magical. We wandered the same wooded area I had taken photos in last month, but it looked different, more golden and less dark green. I focused my camera on capturing her lovely energy, smile, and how she connects to nature.
Continue readingPhotography: Women Are…
“A winner is a loser who tried one more time.
Not the smartest.
Not the fastest.
Just the one who didn’t stop.”
—George M. Moore Jr.
For the month of March, my model was my dear friend Penny. I met her in 2013 at the table read for the Listen to Your Mother stage show. We locked eyes across the table, and instantly connected. She possesses a warmth and kindness that allows her to make people feel profoundly seen, a rare gift. She’s a singer, writer, storyteller, caregiver, and one of my favorite people on the planet.
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Bridgette Tales 