Hint of Pink

these light falls. cast reminders of long drawn lazy days. that feel never ending until the days bolt by in their hundred year dash. and one wonders where the missed opportunities went. how we got here. chaotic crusaders. constantly contorting under time constraints. where the tiniest tick will topple balance. tock to imbalance. and we sometimes struggle to juggle it all.

 

hacking through weeded ways. we take a moment. pause. assess the dangers. the excitement ahead. absorb and calculate every potential path. cautiously scanning our surroundings. trepidation. will we become prey or predator. stand idle or pounce. leap over obstacles into unknown growth. and pronounce ourselves here. warriors. in those hesitating seconds opportunity draws closer. eyes us. and is headed this way.

 

sauntering into summer. this pale creature emerges. huntress. with each day adding golden minutes. she stalks sunny possibilities. aglow amongst the wildflowers. she hears adventure’s song swell. on dandelion breezes. calling for a chase. when the weeds quiver. stir. show signs of prey. quickly the huntress turns. calm excitement hangs in the air. she eyes her prize. and begins the hunt.

when the anxiety of maneuvering all the plot points builds. into a flurry of check marks on to-do lists. missed comms. what-ifs. each new idea splintering into infinite opportunities. cascading cacophony. swirling together until one final piece. linchpin. locks into place. transforms the anxiety. from stressful stomach knots. to excited butterflies. who relish this plan. and settle into a balanced state.

she hides. against the grain. concealed under decorative distractions. hypnotizing patterns. that provide pops of brilliance in this consuming darkness. and vibrantly hope to help her escape the impending guillotine. poised. ready to befall our heroine all the reality she has ignored. all the put off til tomorrow thoughts refined to a sharpness. slowly. cascading silently. she watches the blade fall.

awash in a foreign cast. alien. outsider searching for crevices. footholds. ways to route a path of comfortable disservice. for growth sprouts from discomfort. advance. vining along one course. only to tangle in thorny brush the next. and force a reflective rerouting. proceed. despite the forever feeling one does not belong. and learn to embrace the uniqueness each unparalleled pattern offers.

residing in shadows too long results in amnesia. a loss of radiant joy. but allows for rediscovery. to tentatively open into peeking shine. a warm ray penetrating the darkness. that softly caresses. illuminates. rouses a hibernating creature. bestows a reminder of the vibrancy found in light. full color. to draw her from the cold. one sun kissing beam at a time.

propped on discomfort. and shrouded in dissatisfaction. i toss and turn. uninspired. in this listless state. on the precipice of surfacing. uncover. emerge from beneath the deceptively heavy sheet. to the colorful world awaiting. that euphoric space where the wind whistles with joy. and all appears clear. but tempted to surrender. to the silky stagnation. recover. and melt into the limbo.

disarray can only last for so long. fizzle out. fade into a calmer rhythm. with her nest in order. this chickadee can recline. torpor. snuggle into pixelated pillows. leaving behind the stressful imprints of the past. for budding spring sun light. that attempts to burst through lingering winter clouds. and soothe. relax. into comforting cushions. while flying dreams overtake the day.

under constant critique one can pale to pastel. wear down. and allow a peek. beneath the cover ups. welcoming for a brief moment into this safe space. reflection. wary at first. at odds with self-pronounced flaws. but come to gaze upon vulnerability’s power. its true offering. the gift of honesty. that hushes the negative and highlights the ability to know oneself.