Layers

It is easy to build a wall
lined with pillows,
fluffy blankets, coffee
and a stack of books
paid for with good intentions.

I am 124 days
and 50 pages behind,
still blaming my procrastination
on the year 2020.

I have lists upon lists
and an empty planner
from 2021

and just when I run out of words,
second chances
and excuses,
I fall into his arms,
such a soft place to land
layers of grace upon grace

with nothing to give back
but my heart.

.

Vinedresser

Hesitant, she stands,
pruned for blooming,
decorated
by creative hands;

mountains reverberating
his spoken word.

.

The Price of Art

One cup left in the pot;
enough to soothe the day
and nudge the muse
by the glow of letters on a keyboard
when the lights go out,

she takes a breath
and escapes into a poem.

to the playlist that runs after eleven
into tomorrow;
memories, encapsulated, recounted
regurgitated to bloom a few syllables;
lovely to the ear, but crushing
to the already fractured heart;
a transfusion of words
flowing ink to the pen,

but that is the price of art.

.