The Storm

in those places where
all rainbows start
back country weathers
storm the besotted heart
listen, hear your heartbeat
raindrops pounding
soundly on the roof
welcome chains surrounding
both weak and willful hearts
don’t squeeze the high
blue moon
too tight
enough wonder beaming
to just sit and sigh
love feels just like
touching
the end of the sky

(c) Janni Styles

Today I don’t feel too well and was just trying to catch up on reading some of my favorite bloggers when I happened over this which leaves my eyes teary and my heart bursting with joy to be so loved. Here is the blog post responsible for all of this, written by dear friend Yotaki Beautywalk: “Home Again”

After 3 amazing months in Ireland I am home and I had two wonderful surprises waiting for me. First a card from someone I met on the train as I went cross country. Unfortunately she left the train in an ambulance and her last words were I have a DNR in my purse give it […]

https://beautywalk.wordpress.com/2017/03/23/home-again/

Seasons of the Heart

leaning into the wind

one lone and life worn tree

leaves fallen all around

shivering cold no warmth to be

spring arrives sudden

some sun on the rise

tears falling as raindrops

cease in some sore eyes

summer leads us all to shore

to river, sea or brook

warmed minds forgetting

all life cruelly took

autumn falls with chilled air

we long for summers past

raking up old memories

in the face of wintry blasts

again and again we relive

the leaves dancing in our heads

one leaf atop another

our books of life longing

demanding to be reread

reminding us of loves eternal

why do we humans so grieve

our people are ever in our hearts

and never do they leave.

(c) Janni Styles

 

Clean Laundry

taking in the sheets today the fresh air held me fast

I was in kitchens of my childood my mother standing there

her cold reddenened hands at work hanging and folding

our laundry from the line in cold Ontario air

 

for just a few minutes tonight I forgot where I was

pressing my face into fresh washed sheets

all I could think of was my mother

and precious fresh sheets sleeps

 

as I unraveled the tangled laundry

and hung the damp bedding up to dry

I had a little visit with my mother

and did my best not to cry

 

(it didn’t work)

(c) Janni Styles