Chapter Two: Spring

|Springtime|

Wilderness blooms,
evolving with birdsong;
soft melodies of life,
of change.

Grays dissolve into vibrancy,
clouds thick and white,
soft as baby’s-breath,
drifting in skies that remember
the storms before them.

Mother rabbits tuck their young
in tufts of dewy grass,
keeping them fed,
keeping them warm,
as life carries on above them,

seasons pressing forward,
relentless, yet gentle.

Roots stretch through softened soil,
aching toward warmth,
toward light that hums
against shifting winds.

Pinks, greens, yellows
decorate the landscape
like paint guided under
the careful hand of an artist.

The promise of renewal lingers,
woven into the hush of dusk,
a love letter whispered
between the budding of leaves.

|Cherry Blossom Boy|

Cherry Blossom Boy
be unafraid of your kindness.
You are a rare bloom in this world;
a light that shines through sadness.

Embrace the tears you shed for others,
tracing down your blushing cheeks.
Some may call them weakness,
but they hold a strength that speaks.

It’s okay to laugh and love,
to wear what makes you feel divine.
And to those who mock your beauty,
stand tall, be kind, let your light shine.

They don’t yet understand
the freedom in being true.
Perhaps one day they’ll learn
there’s no one they need to prove themselves to.

So let your bandaged heart move forward
on its brave and blooming quest.
My Cherry Blossom Boy,
you are the soul this world needs best.

|Cleanse|

Raindrops fall upon my head,
drenching my clothes,
soaking me to the bone.
The world around me fades,
leaving only this gentle cascade
of water tapping the earth,
whispering secrets I try to understand.

I stand in it,
arms wide,
letting the cool, endless droplets
like taps upon a cymbal
wash away the weight of the day,
like sippin’ whiskey
above the rhythm of jazz.

Upturned palms feel the rain’s tempo,
and I bask in it
like holy water cascading
across my face.
Each drop a blessing,
a moment of peace
in a world that rarely pauses.

I let it cleanse me,
body and soul
the coldness
a welcome contrast
to the heat of everything I carry.

In this quiet chaos,
I find clarity.
And I let go,
just for a moment,
of everything else.

|Sweet Little Bluebird|

Sweet little bluebird,
sing your gentle tune,
Lift your wings and rise
beneath the silver moon.

Sweet little bluebird,
your hometown isn’t home
it stifles your spirit,
it leaves you alone.

Sweet little bluebird,
fly from this place
away from the ruins,
the sorrow, the waste.

Sweet little bluebird,
all that remains
are sounds of silence,
and long-faded stains.

Sweet little bluebird,
carry your heart
to someone who’ll treasure
your song from the start.

Sweet little bluebird,
rise from the wrong
find your forever,
find where you belong.

|To Be Someone’s|

To be the curl in their smile,
the dance in their step.

To be the soft voice that wakes them,
quietly reminding,
Today will be better.

To be the whisper in their ear,
sharing a joke
only the two of you understand.

To be the warmth
nestled in the crook of their neck
when the world feels all wrong.

To be the pressure in their hand
as you rock together,
wrinkles carved deep
from years of shared laughter.

Oh, to be someone’s.

|No Loving A Cowboy|

Momma taught me to stay away from cowboys
with their shiny spurs and crooked smiles,
stormy eyes that paralyze
from beneath the brim of a tipped ten-gallon.

“Cheats. They bring nothin’ but trouble,” she’d warn.
Still, I couldn’t help but admire the swagger,
how they’d lean against mahogany bars like Dionysus,
soaking in the pleasures of the world with ease.

Whiskey on their lips, rich and warm,
pink as carnations in spring,
and that drawl, low and laced with tobacco,
suddenly makes me their little lady.
They’re temptation, pure and simple,
and maybe worth losing everything for.

But Momma was right.
There’s no holdin’ a cowboy.
They’re as wild as the stallions they ride;
born untamed, born free.
Try to saddle one,
and he’ll buck you off
quicker than a rattler strikes from the dark.

So I’ll love my cowboy tonight.
But before the sun dares kiss the horizon,
he’ll be gone,
riding into the dreamless night,
toward another town,
toward another life.

|Cupid and Psyche|

A mother’s envy,
fierce and wild,
And love’s pure flame,
so undefiled,
Sent winged ones forth
to steal me away
A hidden soul
on mountains gray.

Illuminated faces,
oil hot on skin,
Fled the scene
with the shifting wind.
So I faced the trials,
endured each test,
Refused to yield,
refused to rest.

To bring back beauty
to what lay broken
That was my vow,
though left unspoken.
For what was lost,
my spirit yearns,
Until the hour
your light returns.

Through shared anguish
and quiet resolve,
I rose, reborn
my soul evolved.
A golden visage,
pure, divine
At last, I’m blessed
to call you mine.

|”I Love You.”|

She’s his Sunflower,
He’s her purple Aster.
Together, their garden blooms,
beyond their planted pasture.

Their colors dance
In the ocean’s salty breeze,
Yet their steadfast roots entwine,
Bound by love through endless seas.

Yes, storms may come and go,
No, it hasn’t all been easy—
But every trial, every tempest,
Makes them appreciate the breeze-y.

One day, they’ll wither,
Returning to the earth,
But before that, he will turn
And remind her of their worth.

“We have come so far,” he’ll say.
She’ll smile, “Our garden has, too.”
In a hush of golden sunlight,
They both whisper, “I love you.”

|The First Yes|

I never thought I had the grace
to love someone, to share that space.
In every bond, I’d guard my heart
I’d end it all before the start.

I put myself in front of all,
too scared to slip, too scared to fall.
Love, to me, was just a game;
the fire died, it felt the same.

I never felt the songs they played;
no sweet refrain had ever stayed.
A robot, drifting through the night,
pretending everything was right.

I dated, sure, but always fled
the moment doubt crept in my head.
Infatuation wore too thin
I’d vanish long before the end.

But then he came and changed the air:
a spark, a flame, a sudden flare.
My world lit up, my thoughts a haze;
I found myself inside his gaze.

“Are you in love with him?” she asked,
my mother, who could read my mask.
And for once, no second guess
I smiled and softly answered,
“Yes.”

|He Is Home|

I have always searched for God,
Whether or not I was aware
In the faces of strangers,
In lovers, devil-may-care.

I looked for Him in morning light,
In sunsets blazing gold and bright,
In sacred hymns, in whispered prayers,
In stories told with pastor’s care.

I sought Him in the silence,
In the thunder and the sea,
In mountains tall, in valleys low,
In all that called to me.

But He was never far away,
Not hidden, nor disguised
He shone within the smallest acts,
Reflected in kind eyes.

I found Him in a helping hand,
In laughter warm and light,
In words that healed, in love that stayed,
In mercy’s quiet might.

No need to chase, no need to run,
No distant land to call upon.
For God is not just high above;
He’s here.
He is home.

|The Artist|

We are all brushstrokes,
on this canvas of life.
Each line and each dot,
carved with joy and strife.

We chase after perfection,
yet stumble along the way.
So, we layer the acrylic,
covering what may stray.

But beneath all the colors,
flaws still softly show,
the Artist mends gently,
hands with steady flow.

A masterpiece blooming,
crafted with care,
by love’s patient touch,
beyond compare.

This work is not finished,
it’s plain to see
for my Artist
is still perfecting me.