Morning View (Hour 24)

I’m tired, and I’m not
sure I want to look
where I’ve been or where I’m going
So please, don’t ask me to
tell you what’s in my mirrors or outside my window.

For just one moment,
I’d like to sit right here
just right here
and look nowhere else at all

Eyes closed

I see movement
light flickers in rhythm
with the rustle of leaves
that blow in the breeze
that stirs from wherever
such things do at this foggy time of day

I see quiet.
Not silence, but the peaceful sounds of morning
That kind of quiet.
Soft shades of color
ride waves across the horizon
behind my closed lids

I see warmth
Blue hues of knowing
I stayed the course
wrote all these words
through all these hours

If look for it,
I will see a dark patch,
a black hole where doubt lurks
and tries to lure me to the edge
close enough to whisper in my ear

But today, I don’t wish to listen.
I won’t toe that edge.

Perhaps this morning,
I’ll just open my eyes.

Jill Leslie Ross
(c) coypright 2017

Missing (23)

I don’t want to write about the things I miss.
It will only make me miss them more.

The soft ears of my faithful,
though misbehaved companion.

The squared off letters
on the top left corners
of envelopes that long carried
short notes and AAA memberships

The feeling of warmth
from a body wrapped around mine
as I drift off to sleep
on a winter’s night

The paycheck I had
when I hated my job
but felt free
to go out to dinner

My house in the woods
and the feeling I had
when I sat on the porch
with my big yellow dog
and my hot morning coffee

The pain in my face
from smiling all day
as I drove around the country

The thrill that I felt
the first time
someone bought something
I created

Feeling I had plenty of time
and all things were still possible.

I told you.
If you ask me to write about what I miss,

Oh no you don’t.
I’ll not follow you there.

Attraction (22)

Maybe I swallowed a magnet.
Last night in that bowl of Fruit Loops
I probably shouldn’t have been eating
Just before bed when I was already
So tired I almost nodded off
Right into the bowl
of rainbow milk.

Maybe you swallowed one too.
Yesterday in the grocery store
When you sampled the cherries to be sure they were good
Before you threw a pound into your cart.
You could have mistaken it for a bit.

Maybe that explains why when we met today
We felt such strong attraction.

So if you hiccup
please let me know
I’ll want to hiccup too
Cause if your magnet turns around
And mine stays as it is
you can see where this going.

6am (21)

Dim light of gray
morning kisses me awake
I moan softly letting it
know I feel it
and tuck back
in just five
more minutes.

Venn and Now (20)

Venn and now
Overlapping circles
Of life
The blue bird
Sings karaoke
Okie, okie, okie
Echos through
Caverness halls
And hallowed caves
Who’s walls
Whisper the anthem
Of progress and not
And the story of man
And nature
and their turn from fateful foes
to partners who play
Until the sound
Comes out
The other end
and time
And sun
Dials and sets

At 4 am (19)

In the early hours of morning
Words are too tired
And so they remain
In a pile on the floor
Right next to the laundry.

The Key to Jane (17)

She’d lost her keys…again.
“Jesus Jane!” she said to herself, as she picked up and put back down everything on her writing table. Okay, so it wasn’t actually a writing table, it was her kitchen table that was rarely suitable for dinner and guests as it was, in fact, the table at which she wrote.
“Damn!” she said, after she dropped the thesaurus down so hard that the table quivered and coffee sloshed right out of its cup and all over the page she’d only just printed out – the only page she’d written in days she thought she could live with.
“Damn!” she said again, this time for a list of reasons she started itemizing until she caught herself and stopped. “Focus,” she said, first with a question mark at the end, then a comma, and finally, “period.”
Her eye fell on the poster now all but covered by sticky notes of things she needed to remember to do, or write, or at least think about – not that she actually needed a note to remind her to think. “Stay on the path at all times.”

Red Headed Agama (16)

Hey you,
Yes, you with the orange head.
Okay fine, you call it red.

You’re not from here,
It’s plain to see
How’d you get here living free?

How’d you get so far from home,
Why do stay, why don’t you roam?

I was brought from Africa as a child
To live in a pet shop for a while

But when a storm came raging through
The windows rattled and then they blew

The gang of us thought it was fate
So we fled, we all escaped

We found this castle and agreed
It had everything we could need.

We live happy
we living free

No need to wander,
not need to roam
We’re settled in,
we love our home.

Attachment Knocked at the Door (15)

Attachment knocked at the door
I let it in.
Rumi told me to
It pulled up chair
And sat down beside me.

It pulled out a knife
And carved its name into the chair,
Asked me to promise it could have the seat forever.

Attachment is like that.
Laying claim and grabbing on.

(part of a series called “Rumi Told Me To”)

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