Building a kind empire out of coffee, bricks, glitter, snow, fire, and poems.

I am bulding a kind empire. It is being lashed together so carefully with tiny little strands, giant hanks of sparkling beads that glitter in direct light. I am tying the sweetest of knots, each one a blessing, a  peck on the cheek, a soft breath blowing dandelion-seed wishes swirling out into the universe. I am making the strongest connections, hand-forged with faith and trust, with giant bolts and thick hemp ship’s rope. It’s made up of words, the only thing we really have to work with. Words both sublime and dangerous, lacy and speckled, powerful and divine. It’s meant to ride out the transition between frozen and wet, this slushy muddy time, this “dirty end of winter”.

We are spending the whole day outside again, in hats and sand, snow boots and tee shirts. With sap and fire and bricks and snow and blinding peaks of just born grasses.. With Sugar Camp Grilled Cheese on the menu and s’mores and hot smoky tea.

The winds are here. The storm will certainly rise and stretch its mean beak right at us. And we will be safe here in this nest of stones, fire, smoldering poetry, and kindness. Come on over and pull up a seat.

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7 years gone.

7 years gone and my heart still aches for her. My sweetie, my hero, my best friend. I still wake up at night sometimes and have to remember all over again that she is gone; the diagnosis, the hospital, the hospice angels, the surrender, the hopelessness of cancer, her cries, her bravery, the morphine patches that did nothing in the end, the rituals of taking care of her, her exit bath, the room filled with the scent of lilacs and green tea lotion, her sweet sweet smile, and then the quiet and full nothing. The bottomless hole left in my life where once stood a great and beautiful woman. I will miss her forever, and I will carry her kindness with me always–right out in front.

NEVER CRY ABOUT A DIXIE CUP.
Something profound about her smoky blue eyes and the way they played with the light of the world, the way they made the stars look dim and the sky look like it was doing an impression of something great. A little more about peace and great adventure and passionate longing and real truths and happily ever after and true love always. Yes please, a little more about that. Never cry about a Dixie cup, they are made of paper and they are quite nice. Try to trust your instincts and follow your heart when it comes to these matters. When these circumstances arise, realize what you have, what your dreams are. Don’t just complain and hurt others with negativity.
Something lovely about a dream Magic Fox Dances once had. It was of her grandmother who had passed. Magic Fox Dances saw her grandmother sitting on the edge of her very own bed in her nightgown, like Magic Fox Dances had seen her dozens of times before. Her grand mother had a sad loving true look on her face. Bella Donna Moon smiled with her eyes still staying sad. This is possible and you know it. It happens to people every day. Any way, her grandmother looked up at her and beckoned with one pretty hand. For some reason in the dream her grand mother could not speak and so Bella Donna Moon beckoned. Magic Fox Dances went over to the bed to sit next to her, half sitting with one leg straight and on the floor for balance. Magic Fox Dances noticed she was a little girl again, in that little girl body, though her mind was of now, of knowing and ages. Magic Fox Dances was clear in the dream, and grandmother was hazy, fogged at the edges in a beautiful picturesque antique way. Her grand mother took her hand and turned it palm up. Bella Donna Moon had been sorting her button box and now Bella Donna Moon was pulling buttons and the most beautiful charms out of it and placing them in her grand daughter’s upturned hand while she held the hand up with hers underneath it for support. At first, as Bella Donna Moon placed each button, it seemed like the girl could hear words and letters being said. Magic Fox Dances looked into her hand, still supported firmly, lovingly by her grandmother’s own frail sweet warm hand and Magic Fox Dances saw that each button was a word – all the words grandmother could not say right now. Grandmother “said”,
“I love you.” “A bushel and a peck!” “ I miss you so much” “ I wish I could hold you one last time, I wish I could always hold you” “dying was easier because you were there with me” “dying wasn’t so bad once I let go. I do wish that it would be easier for you, your living and your passing. I wish that for you like I wished for you, like baby stars and lambs and every sweetness.” “Always, ALWAYS keep wonder in your heart. It’s the only way to really be alive, to be excited about what is next, the future, and to not be bogged down in negativity and the past. “ Then as the words became sweeter and more real, more touching, they began to take form. The words became landscape pieces, little animals and beings, little songs and tiny sewing notions and all of wonder and goodness.
The granddaughter looked down into her hand and peered at the tiny universe that had begun to unravel in there. Magic Fox Dances saw a tiny unicorn prancing clumsily at first, then more steady on it’s hooves, it had a plum colored ribbon in it’s mouth and seemed to be dancing quite deliberately in a circle. Ah ha, Magic Fox Dances thought, here comes a lamb, fuzzy and warm, with a scarlet ribbon in her mouth, following the unicorn. Then more animals appear, swallows with olive green ribbons, a naughty little fox with a periwinkle ribbon, already torn to shreds though and dirty too; horses with mustard yellow ribbons, all joining in a circular parade until eventually it became a carousel right there in the palm of her hand, then the carousel became encapsulated in a snow globe filled with glitter, Magic Fox Dances shook it, the glitter changing colors from rose to silver to periwinkle to gold back to rose then lavender. The granddaughter continued to stare at the globe and the still parading animals, totally mystified and filled with wonder. Magic Fox Dances looked back up and met her grandmother’s gaze. They both yearned to kiss to hug and embrace for a good long time, but it was not possible. The little girl is a grown woman with a family and very little girl of her own, and The lovely Bella Donna is long gone now, her footprints in the glittery snow fallen all around the broken carousel lead far away back into the deep dark wood.

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Fall Hike

He wore his fall hat that matched all the trees. I mean every tree out there. And his beautiful grin that has lit me up for eleven years now, lit me up from 3,000 miles away, and now from across town, across this room. Lights my heart on fire and the warmth brims up into my chest and leaks out my eyes. Then I get all snotty. It is fantastic. There is nothing better than that.

She wore her favorite play dress and her shoes “JUST LIKE PAPA’S!!!”. And her love of hoarding sticks and pine cones, and her unwavering sense of wonder and magic. And her sweetness. There was so much love on this hike, it’s no wonder all the trees were turning red and orange, just to contain it.

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