a ritual to start the work week
Like mission control counting down to launch
or my brain in the morning
daffodils must be this way.
Their nodding buds abuzz
all bustle and hubbub before the bloom
with building energy and final checks.
But ah!
What yawning stillness they must find
what perfect poise
pure potential
their yellow folds must hold
in the breathless moments between one and liftoff.
Milliseconds stretch into minutes and months
miniature winters
waiting to spring.
love notes
a ritual to start the week
They birthed the world
as one but not at once,
the way a newborn is said
to reflect elements of
their lineage — their eyes
a gift from a grandparent,
the way their nose whiffs
of one side and their ears
echo the other — but growth
shows the depths of those
connections as well as
the departures — a new
stride lengthened by
determination, a previously
unseen squint creased by
persistent skepticism. Yes,
the world grew this way, too.
love notes
a ritual to start the week
The flames call me
back to the cave,
the flicker in your eye
an ancient memory.
The trees call me
back to their heights,
their fruit and their roots
urging toward the ground.
The waves call me
back to the depths,
to vastness, to weightless,
to gasping, to sludge.
The clouds call me
forward in their wispy
whispers, incessant pleas
to wish, to “what if…”
love notes
a ritual to start the week
Slick bricks took me down,
now the sun burns unseen ice
straight into vapor.
love notes
a ritual to start the week
Flower child feels
with dirt-smeared knees,
their soles stained green
from running through weeds.
Dig, baby, dig!
Seek deeper, know further:
tell the soil’s secrets
with your toil.
Star child blazes
with wide-eyed gaze,
their heart set aflame
by each new day.
Glow, baby, glow!
Shine brighter, go farther:
share the sun’s warmth
with your fun.
love notes
a ritual to start the week
The cool midwinter sun
unwraps a crystalline
morning, the third running.
The only clouds above
puff and whisp from
bundled repairfolks in
buckets, working on wires,
uncrossing them, as it were.
After a waterlogged January
when we could never quite
crawl all the way out
from under our covers
and feel our feet solid
beneath us, February
raised its baton and
called for a crisp, clear C:
tuning us for something
momentous and beautiful,
something practiced yet
fleeting and new.
love notes
a ritual to start the week
Dare we dance? Dare we balance?
Dare we whirl? Dare we unfurl?
Dare we spin? Dare we open?
Dare we meet? Dare we complete?
love notes
a ritual to start the week
let go / begin
known / lived
brew / produce
erode / hold in
hum / speck
owe / endure
create / connect
love notes
a ritual to start the week
walls fall all around us
barriers built to withstand
the onslaught protect
our soft parts from the
necessary harms of being
alive awake and alert
but it’s the unnecessary
hatred the fear-stoked
barrage that breaks us
blows our bricks to bits
what if we could refashion
this inglorious mix of worn
stones and blasted shards
if the key to compassion
is not buried among the
rubble but the rubble
itself if these fragments
wait to be made into walls
wide enough to hold us all
love notes
a ritual to start the week
You don’t need to show us your scars
for us to know them
for us to know you
we feel your rough spots
in the brief hesitation
before you return our gaze
in the time between your text messages
in your quiet resolve to ask for help
just maybe not yet
in the earnestness with which
you share your work
our love for you grows into those gaps
warms against your coolness
so you need not hide your sharp edges
for we do not fear them
love notes
a ritual to start the week
