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Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Scribbles and Scrambles - Squashed Song

I fear poetry. When I'm serious, will I make people laugh? If I attempt to be vague will anyone get it? Today I'm inspired though. Inspired and brave.

My very public attempt at a poem. I hope it touches your hearts.


Ode to the Blasted Squeaking Cricket

Glossy obsidian armor
Talent oozes, your song inspires
Delicate strings played to perfection

Fingers of dusk,
Encroaching twilight,
Awakens your siren song.

Memories flow with your symphony,
Hide and seek, tag
Campfires and stolen kisses

Somehow, you’ve stolen
Into my home
Alone, the notes fall sour

Thoughts of you flood me
Crushed obsidian shell
Squished cream filling

Die, cricket, die.