pear blossoms patiently
waiting
a breeze whistles
tickles
bees buzz above me
i’m no flower, sweet honey
there’s no pollen for you here.
but sometimes
i forget —
the ones with thorns still
have petals to rest on
still have nectar
to give pollen
to gather.
yet yet yet —
sharp points exist
for a reason.
maybe you think i’m something
soft to land on.
if i can’t give that to myself maybe i can be soft for you.
r.t.
good morning, reader. as i’m writing there’s a strong breeze outside. it makes a soft whoosh as it moves through the drying leaves, some falling and crackling as they are swept up across the driveway. it’s a calming sound, making it difficult to finish typing this out. the home rhythm is shifting back to school, and it’s a bittersweet end to one of my favorite summers yet. summer only gets more fun as my little adventurers grow and i’m better learning the types of things they like to do together. this summer held some deeply painful moments, yet i look back at it with a longing ache for so many glimmers i hope will stay in my memories.
for the last day before the start of school we drove to the beach with our oldest friends. the ones who spent many long days, our babies quickly becoming friends who call us aunties. we let salty waves crash over us. we watched jellyfish dance just below the surface. we found shells and rocks and spotted rabbits and it ended with sun-kissed cheeks and tired adventurers and so much sand and i’m so grateful.
i hope your week is filled with glimmers of joy scattered throughout, popping up just when you need them. until next time.
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