Beverly M. Collins

Midday Sky

I often carried my emotions like a folder

under my arm. A bit of feeling I could open

at will. I sometimes gazed out of my window

at the blue skies dabbed with clouds on a

soft journey. They looked down and wondered

Why I stood still when life offered much

to travel to. All the bottled blue inside to leave

behind.

Like the time I traded glances with a

quiet man seated on the bus stop bench.

The corners of his mouth pointed downward.

Oh! The blue in his heart appeared to have

flooded the color of his eyes.

Our stare was broken by the hover of a

hummingbird…A surprise that elevated

both of our expressions into a duet of

smiles.

(First published in "Indigomania" by Truth Serum Press/Bequem Publishing collective-Australia)

Caterpillars

 

Unmolded consumer/builders

tethered to the underside of 

dreams suspended…

 

The quiet state of pre-adorned

can appear to roll on forever.

Spiky and driven (bite after tiny bite)

into early flutter of everything

that represents unfoldment.

 

Incarnations!

As the surface changes, a

fountain-of-evolution can layer

over a single soul.

 

Formidable mankind.

Purposeful, focused masters of self

reinvention…Like caterpillars who

also seek their set of wings.

Moss

 

Walls covered in a green growth that moves

Slow and clings due to code. Land barnacles,

much like those found in the ocean,

alive and holding on. Present but fearful that

to float or sail would spell a sure end.

What is the human expression of fear/cling?

Does it show itself only in intention?

Is it quietness when there is much to express, or

laughter in moments that are without humor?

Is it to be tender yet secretly ashamed of

one’s own tenderness or an impulse to cling

to ideas that may render us undone?

Hold-on, be quiet-green-mush until smeared.

Then, get mashed over sustained silliness.

 

 (First published by Academy of the Heart and Mind)