Twilight makes the flow of river geisha like; eager to please, an intimate exchange between the setting sun and fireflies dancing along the riverbank. The first rustle of wind that pierces my heart. Oh weaver, you disguise yourself as the evening breeze

© 2020 Jennifer Brookins


time to sing the morning song


I’ve lived too long to view myself in a different light

I love the you of me

still get up for 3 a.m. meditation

splash cold water on my face

Oh Weaver,

you sweeten me like ripe peaches on a hot summer day

my eyes burn, can’t think straight outdoors pickin’ cotton

sun beatin’ down on my back

I am a pond reed through which you play music

to feed my soul

© 2020 Jennifer Brookins

Only yesterday I lived my childhood in the lap of innocence, sitting for hours in my tree house dreaming myself the incarnation of Sheena, Queen of the Jungle. I waited for dusk to watch fireflies light up my southern sky. I can still smell the sweetness of honeysuckle wifting through our bedroom window. On schooldays if there was enough money, my aunt gave us a nickel to buy a slice of watermelon to eat as we walked home from school. Oh so good. After dinner, we polished our shoes for school the next day while scaring ourselves to death listing to “Inner Sanctum” on the radio. Time…a thing of feathers

© 2020 Jennifer Brookins

I pined for raindrops to fall against my cheek; yet nature had not the strength to yield moisture to earth’s bounty, nor water for thorny bush seedlings; my feet scorched to the touch. All the while, I foolishly prayed for night to come quickly, that a gentle breeze would push me over the edge. Oh Weaver, what was the greater gift? Was it the baubles received or the hard lessons learned?

© 2020 Jennifer Brookins

who is to question your ways
in a secret covenant every creature calls out
Beloved Beloved …Listen
how quiet is snow capped mountain
where honeysuckle grows wild
heliotrope clings to craggy rocks
snow goose finds refuge
until worldly clatter
flaps its nonsensical ideas
how smart they are
how beautiful
how witty
how cereal A is better than cereal B
poor little human heart
my every breath a last hurrah until I met you
O Weaver Ji
meet me tonight
in the gazebo

© 2020 Jennifer Brookins

It was shocking to my soul
How softly the night fell
Upon the earth as lips kissing
An undeserving traveler
For the longest time
I’ve wanted to lay my cheek
Upon the sky and grab hold tightly
To cusp my hand
In such a way that I pulled it down
Upon my unsuspecting breast
Until every breath
Every sinew finally gave way
To one sigh
To that one moment
That hearkened upon
Such sweet sadness that
I could no longer yearn
Nor reach
Nor want
Nor run – nor hide
I could but receive
as you caressed my eye lids
sweet lover
will you not cradle my soul
within the bosom of your own
send me a message if you will meet me tonight
unbalanced am I
waiting for you

© 2020 Jennifer Brookins

Good Morning World

Wake up dear heart

the Divine Alchemist urges you to face life with boldness                              

kick up your heels, buttress up where love is concerned

give timidity its just reward… it’s made you so unhappy

start with a good bitch slap that should do it

afterward we’ll go skinny dipping

don’t be ashamed of nakedness

soul has no use for garments

woven from dark thought

Copyright © 2020 Jennifer Brookins