Her fear notes still have
corresponding keys that play
in me, sometimes.
Oh, sweetness, I know
your ill-fitting skin
was making you drown
in public fountains
to shrink it down to size.
There was no thing wrong,
but you couldn’t see,
so I love you
from now.
Not only that,
I know you,
I see you –
Even so,
I grasp for Tomorrow’s
mysterious flame
accelerant
and squeeze it onto
our heart fire of 3 –
the past,
the now
and the yet to be.
i burn the shell away.
Frogs are not concerned about winter
that was or still may be
on a hot summer night – when
the moon is giving a sliver hint of return.
Grass is wet,
bugs are thick,
love can move the air.
Croak deep to the dark,
for the pleasure
of our acquaintance.
There is only tonight
and me in many forms one.
Life as Improv 
My my my friend you just soared past brilliant word smithing and dove into deep mystical waters and touched the bottom-BOOM.
At times, I think I knock on your door as a neighbor and ask to borrow a cup from the deep pool of silence you have stored up. Thanks for that!
sweet elegance. how lovely, Marga.
Thank you M. I climbed up a mountain with a waterfall on Friday. splashed you!
hurray, hurray! can we do it again, sometime? i think that’s just awesome. i made a little garden place for all the m’s blooming in my life, yesterday. you’re an amazing flower, marga. so are the other m’s. it’s a very exuberant place, this morning. 🙂 xx ~meredith
Tingles and shivers on the read. Head to toe rolling chills of joy at my nerve endings celebrating truth in the beauty of such eloquent offerings. (M does a little shake so her hands can still type through the “tickles” of a happy human physical home called body), -xx.M
PS now more collected, THANK YOU THANK YOU for letting us eavesdrop on such a profound conversation. As time passes, it is so fun to be privileged and gifted a observation seat to see how the skin shifts in it’s fittings, how the smell for the skin evolves. Thank you for letting us into those precious parts of the heart of M…yesterday, today and (YIPPY with many coming cups of tea with grandchildren at our knees:) ) tomorrow. -x.M
Heart grateful that you opened the window in me for traveling this way. I and all the me(s) took up a whole row of seats for a little show on Saturday night. 🙂 Hope the pillows have been soft this week! xo! m
Beautifully haunting, M! I felt transported to somewhere in between worlds, where frogs croak with timeless Presence to mark the hours of Eternity, and knowing is in a heavy cast iron kettle in the corner boiling off the excess water, a place where fear and forgiveness are politely chatting backstage in between performances over a cup of coffee, and where selves both comfortable and un- are witnessed in their becoming of one another. You paint with such rich hues. I wonder if everyone sees these same colors…? Or if there are some new ones here perhaps in this backstage of the Heart…? 🙂
Michael
What eyes can see in the strange lighting found backstage of the heart? Can you describe the new color? You are so keen as to have noticed and now I think i may be basking in this froggy, psychedelic soup of newness. I don’t think my doubting thomas student will understand if I come to him with this poem as proof that we can make new colors as junior creators, haha! The universe winks at/as me through you! hooray for that! I am carving out time for your latest shares – setting the table and plating your words like desserts (you and Maren write with confectionary genius) to be savored in space.