Sister Phoenix

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In the fusion of fire and tenderness
A lust for life erupts
Wings unfurl
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Lift off into the Wild Winds of Change

And it is such a beautiful thing
To see your colours fill the sky
To witness your unparalleled luminosity
To watch you soar

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Convergence of Seasons

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On an unusual January morning
I grab my bright pink running shoes
along with a decidedly somber umbrella
and head out into the drizzle and the rain
the wakefulness infused in what feels like spring
rushes into my veins
working in tangent
with the fantasies held in winter sleep
still unfolding in my mind
I walk in that place
where dreams and reality swirl together
over sidewalks laced with autumn leaves
and Christmas tree pine needles
I watch fog rolling over fields of
snow and green grass
ghostlike
and alive
the fog winding its way through woods
still clinging tenaciously to last year’s leaves
all while my skin is tingling like it does
right before an electrical storm
when the air is restless with magic
and I wonder
I wonder
if the plants and seeds lying dormant in the frozen ground
are gifted with a flash of awareness
of all that they might become in the lushness of summer
on unusual January mornings
such as this

Love Linked

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straight, solid, intentional
an insertion
caressed and wrapped in softness
a tug, slip, release
and a new stitch is born
a link connecting all those engaging in this craft
in the present
merged with a sensation of stretching
deep into the past
the artist allows her external world to soften
as she nestles within her own thoughts
holding family, friends, strangers in need of compassion
within her heart
recipients of the soothing motions of her hands
and so her gifts extend outwards
to warm the bodies and souls of others
love multiplying and advancing
casting a tender and colour-rich future

Unexpected Winter Longings

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I cannot believe that I am admitting this to you
me who saturates herself in colours like I would wither without them
me who weeps when the birds flee to more hospitable climates
my heart breaking for the loss of their songs
but I long for winter
I long for winter like one who is pressed and overstimulated and weary longs
to indulge in rest without obligations or guilt
I long for it like sunburned skin longs for a fan blowing
across a bowl of frozen water

oh to open a frosted window
and draw frigid air deep into my lungs
to calm the hot flashes from within

to nestle underneath the worn comforter that I have made
rows upon rows of single crochet
like layers upon layers of blanketed snow
sleepy
while I sink into literary fiction

to sit at the table with my husband
right against the patio doors
immersed in the adventures of mythical board games
protected and cozy
while a storm rages on the other side of the glass
the sharp tinkling sound
of ice pellets hurtling against windows

and to wander through our home during the night
our rooms lit almost like daytime
moonlight and streetlights reflected on snow reflected on clouds
peering outside to watch bunnies
taking refuge in our skeletal raspberry canes
a landscape of winter magic made visible

this is what I long for
to be cooled
to slow things down
to dream alongside my husband and nature
and to admire the designs
of a stark and silvery wonderland

Colours of Transition

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When I felt the first shift of perimenopause
my favourite colours became Silver and Deep Purple
Silver called to me like the moon
mystical and feminine with the elusive majesty
of light sparkling on snow-covered ground
While Deep Purple spoke to me of my rich sexual life
my intensified drive for life-giving expressions

In the energetic midst of perimenopause
my favourite colour burst forth as Orange
like the flames of hot flashes and emotions
that burned over me and through me
all with a thrust towards happiness

With the full emergence into menopause
my thoughts are consumed with images of Pink rose petals
Soft
Resting in my innate loveliness
My attention effortlessly drawn to beauty
As I yield to the elixir of romance

The Launching

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Traveling a path she has already begun
Deepening the grooves and widening the arcs
Branching out and pulling in
A quickening in the pulses of momentum
Preparing to launch herself to where there is no longer road
Preparing to catch fire and soar

Wildflower

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embracing her natural state of joy and passionate abandon
a wildflower dancing in the wind
blossoming in uninhibited fields of unconventionality
and scattering seeds in places
where only she dares to know
that life can take hold

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