you = a miracle

i really like watching the sky over the water.
i really like
colors swirling before my eyes,
the wind against my face and
sand between my toes.
silence and crashing waves somehow create
a melody i would be happy to lose myself in.

i really like staring at the stars between moonlit branches.
i really like
the breeze whispering in my hair, a thick rope swaying across my vision,
threads beneath my fingers as the swing rocks from side to side.
stars smile down at me and i don’t dare move,
afraid to disturb some kind of unspoken balance;
a pounding rhythm deep within myself seems to sync in time with it.

i really like feeling a part of my Creator’s masterpiece.
i really like
just feeling like the miracle i am,
like the miracle that His artwork is.

i wish we could take some time to love that a little more.
i wish we could take some time to appreciate that a little more.
i wish we could take some time to try to understand that it’s a miracle.
despite your problems.
despite your stress.
despite whatever it is that drags you down.
because yeah, i know it drags you down, but…

you’re beautiful and
you’re a miracle and
you’re alive and
nothing in this world can change that.

you are who you are and it’s a thousand times prettier than the stars…

//i will make you believe you are lovely//


November 14

now the breeze is cold when it plays with my hair, as i’m
drawing out my plans for tomorrow and watching orange leaves slip between the branches,
grabbing a frappuccino and wondering when the time will come for hot chocolate;
yesterday it was too chilly for me so I pulled out the fuzzy socks—
it’s sweater weather in the morning but hot by midday,
and suddenly i’m not dying from a heatstroke,
but i’m loving cool evenings on the swing, rocking gently from side to side, gazing through the gaps in the leaves of a great oak,
clinging to the warmth of the bonfire in the backyard, holding hands and laughing to the stars—
early sunsets, early sunrises….
this is a  k i n d e r  month.

*quietly hands you 10 hot chocolates* 

My Friend, the Blue Jay

It was an overcast evening
when you chose to flit past my window
like a bursting streak of blue against
mundane layers of gray wood.

You made your home near my windowsill
one rainy morning, nestled in branches
that glistened with raindrops
of a newborn tree I had planted yesterday.

You were a friend when the lonely days came,
when the wind swept by and chilled me to the bone,
when the leaves had fallen and long since disappeared
and even your tree was bare.

I remember leaning against the glass pane
and tracing swirls in the fog of my breath
while watching you dance lightly atop the straw
and feed your young family.

It was entertaining to watch them all grow up,
to watch you glide weightlessly through the air,
to watch the days fade away
behind your azure feathers.

But that was the past
and now you are gone
and I wait by the windowsill
for next year.


it blossoms beauty
in nature’s delicate form,
colors springing forth
like a fountain,
dipping to the earth
from which it came.

teasing the churned soil,
the wind sweeps the petals
from side to side,
mocking earth’s bare surface
where no arms can reach
to drag her down.

colors spiraling,
petals dancing,
a green stem bathes in natural light,
turned to dancing rays,
until clouds rebel
and rain cascades through the air
and kisses the petals
with the slightest touch–
at first.

I see you with your smile,
where you play in the leaves
and try to hold the sun
between your fingers.

you prance through the garden,
admiring the flowers
until you find my rose
where it sways in the morning breeze.

you crouch down to stare at it,
and I see the question forming
in your eyes,
so I answer anyway:

don’t be afraid
to pick the petals
but please don’t
rob it clean.

Four Seasons


the clouds were majestic and beautiful, sweeping gallantly through the air with the sky as the ballroom and earth as the audience.
gaping mouths opened and snow coated the lands in a sugary coat of white, a gentle but steady downpour upon bare soil.
clouds breathed and wind swept forth, churning the desolate landscape and urging it to movement.
water was captured and frozen to a rigid solid substance and refused to be stirred.

thus, winter birthed and died.


green reared its lovely head once more, daring to break through a frigid barrier and emerge from an icy prison.
warmth was bred and coldness turned tail and fled, leaving ice and snow to hiss and dissolve away in defeat.
naked branches were clothed in green foliage and flowers sprung free and radiated colorful glory.
earth was bathed in light until the clouds returned and opened mouths to spew torrents of rain, proceeding to fed and nourish life.
life, which bounded joyously through golden meadows and strived amongst rich forests and gardens.

thus, spring birthed and died.


the sun turned brutal and water precious as gold, the slightest breeze received as a blessing.
the sky transitioned to soft blue and the clouds floated thick and flocculent.
evening storms shook the earth but fed the grass and stirred humid air.
life flourished amidst the shade.

thus, summer birthed and died.


shriveled leaves gave way to brilliant shades of red, orange, yellow.
cold crept in and whispered promising threats.
the clouds toiled and sensed yet another change, prompting the winds to rush about in excitement and rustle branches, ripple stilled waters.
leaves crunched and the air took on a slight chill.
tension strangled the atmosphere as the earth prepared for a new season.

thus, autumn birthed and died.


the earth was made to accept change and new life.
the seasons were made to birth and die, to repeat an endless cycle no matter the circumstances.
one cannot destroy winter’s icy touch or spring’s quiet rebellion or summer’s fiery temper or autumn’s crunchy taste.

thus, four seasons shall continue to birth and die.