He made the plain and simple
a view of miraculous. With just
a touch. All became encased overnight
by a spell of magic.
A landscape of tiny glass castles.
Her damp feet, nourished soul
left her with a wondering, as if
it almost never happened.
Had winter sun
melted her glass slippers away?
© Ali Grimshaw 2017
When the crack widens
to an unknown view.
Fear seeks this space
between rough edges
quickly slides in
expanding like a balloon
a barricade of shadow to
seal the sides solid.
Yet seekers of light
will never be blinded
by such tricks of perspective.
When eyes look with love
illumination is present and
forgiveness sets another place
at the table.
© Ali Grimshaw 2017
Dedicated to the shortest day of the year, the miraculous world we live in and all of those who make the world a better place by giving their light.
Winter solstice in the Northern Hemisphere was at 8:28 AM today.
She never failed
to float him beyond
the current of his day
to slip away with her
curved sides just right
perfect in their holding space
to part waves
when he needed release
she took him far from shore
her motor always finely tuned
of that he made sure
never to neglect.
© Ali Grimshaw 2017
My closed eyes wonder
have you been waiting for my call?
Are you one who waits?
One who waits to be
chosen
invited
picked?
Are you one who anticipates hopefully
rocking chair movement, back and forth
not going anywhere
waiting to open your door
find me standing before you?
Are you willing to be the one that shows up
arms wide, inviting in
the unprotected in downpour, ghostly gale,
frosty fear anticipating rejection?
Are you willing to hear the
no?
Are you open to the yes?
Which is more frightening?
© Ali Grimshaw 2017
By knowing you,
I find myself.
Now and 90 years wrinkled.
My doubts don’t exist in your eyes.
You see the chipped edges
scars of failed attempts
places worn raw from not retreating.
The rough, abeyant curves of my puzzle.
You see my essence of spirit
gently hold it all up,
a mirror before me,
now I can see,
for myself,
who I am becoming.
Revised version of the original poem shared in 2016
© Ali Grimshaw 2017
Please return the glass bowl
the one with the orange lid.
Surely it is empty now, alone
on the shelf or behind the rice jar.
It is not that I am in need,
I just found myself thinking
of its emptiness, a hollow of cold.
Loneliness I wish to fill with warmth of soup.
One spoon of comfort at a time
to refill yourself
on Tuesday night
after the day’s work is done.
© Ali Grimshaw 2017
He brings me leaves, one each day
a contrast in shape
varied vibrancy, coral to ripe peach
left on the kitchen counter
until evening arrives at our window.
Held in his palm, this single
donation, color story of today.
Our eyes meet the wrinkles, textured hues, imperfect edges.
Our hands hold a temporary prize between us
a cherishing.
Trees give without expecting
something in return. Thankfully,
so does he.
© Ali Grimshaw 2016
May you find someone to share the beauty of nature with today. Happy Thanksgiving.
To lose you
would be a sea without waves
moan of Winter wind
outside as I lay cold in bed.
To lose you
would be the wilt of wildflowers
a bow of small heads around the globe.
My eyes squeezed shut
effort of not remembering.
To lose you
would be loss for those
yet to hear your hearty chuckle,
low and warm
its own kind of song.
© Ali Grimshaw 2017
flashlight batteries - Ali Grimshaw 