Goldenhour

know the arc is repetitive. in this pendulum of life. with highs and lows. swinging to and fro. and all the points in between. when gravity pulls back down. dips. threatens to stall. one can find momentum in the downdrafts. swing. forward into those uplifts. those euphoric elevations. until thrust is achieved. and lift off into the stratosphere. to fly free.

 

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.

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.

when wishes need emitting make them on fleeting floating seeds. that delicately dance into the stratosphere. carrying those desires up. higher. to reach beyond our world. drawn into a gravitational waltz. magnetized. where the sun leads them in box step. spiraling until they are swallowed. fused. in a blaze of wondrous light. and become their own radiant beam of hopeful emission.

a dreamy chick soaring in sunshine highs. finds freeing strokes can quickly turn to struggled flits. when the ground grasps at wings. and the air rushes away. she’s fallen. momentarily stricken with gravity. that pulls those cloud-high desires down to reality. sinking into the honey mixture of bitter beginnings and sweet rewards. that come from humility in accepting an imperfect flight.

riding the descend of one moment and the dawn of another. i recognize this repeating pattern. of sweet mixed sadness creating a confused concoction. duplexity. a calm exterior hides my internal unrest. crisscrossing against the grain. those troublesome shadows revel in revealing emotions. hidden under anxious hair play. that sneak to the surface when least expected. and catch me off guard.

there’s this thing called hope. we all get it on occasion. comes out of a kind gesture, word, or view. sinks its unrealistic teeth into one’s subconscious. and leaves its rosy residue behind. embedding. waiting until reality resumes to rekindle that optimistic flame. fire. that burns ahead. alight with potential. promising fortunate futures. for those willing to mix hope with action.

first light of a new year washes ashore. paints my world in blues and golds. dawning. it warms the air, the earth, the developing days. cascades its promising power over this solitary start. where a release from before. and a welcome to the now. collide under cotton puffed skies. present. in the 2017 dawn. i vow to embrace every day to come.