doubters only believe what they see … you know the type dark sunglasses at night for a better view. Oh Weaver, guard my arrested heart from neighbors who wonder what type illness has come over me now that I wear mistletoe in my hair. They say I’m eccentric… well hardly…just bring on the hand cuffs; you’re welcome to everything in my old closet.

Early this morning before the sun had yet to rise I heard you say, “Daughter, have you seen my new act? We are the infamous bullfrog quartet free to all who would dare my kind of loving”

There is a lion in me so easily provoked; rears it’s head each time a stranger attempts to enter it’s cage without knocking when the sweet silence of heartache is disturbed

2020 Jennifer Brookins

walk with me this afternoon
no particular plan just fresh mountain air
wild roses gone wild; nest where mockingbirds had babies
when breathless we stop and watch clouds passing by
whoops ….I forgot your love for algorithms
why do you analyze every little thing until you exhaust yourself from too much thinking like a donkey
carrying a load of books on its back.
Dear heart, my offer still stands,
if you come without prejudice and
your I Phone

© 2020 Jennifer Brookins

sometimes I face the sun
other times the amber glow of dawn
seeding earth with prayer in the chill of early day
I wrap your essence around my shoulders
to cover a heart no longer mine
you disguise yourself as snow falling on my windowsill
I hear you say
“Daughter, be still and listen to the flutter of dragonfly wings
clouds passing by without shadows
be still and know
who I am

© 2020 Jennifer Brookins

I hear winter rain falling as wild mountain roses

it’s you hiding behind the moon

if you stay away my heart will turn into shards of glass

look, red shouldered hawk is perched in his monastery

praying to rising sun as I to you

Beloved opiate of my soul

come to me

play your divine lyre

I wait for you

in the quiet elegance of night

© 2020 Jennifer Brookins

I got up early this morning when darkness still covered the land; just had a feeling the stars would still be shining. Not good to make friends with a bed; too much sleep imprisons the soul. But to sit here in crisp late night air stargazing in wonderment and discover some lonesome adventurer looking down at me makes my heart break out in laughter. I call up. “Send me a sign, a paper airplane will do.” Just the thought makes my heart laugh … and I dream of you as the new day slumbers.

© 2020 Jennifer Brookins

on this cold winter day aviaries of black birds

feast on summer leavings

white tail deer munch in my garden

vagabond neighbors always welcome at our table

sometimes late in the day I see flocks of winged birds

headed for supper-fields

Weaver Ji,

guide them to your special place

where huckleberries grow wild in depths of snow

weatherman says more of the same

on the way

© 2020 Jennifer Brookins

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

which heart would you have me hide behind … the one that beats within my soul and far surpasses the small untrustworthy heart answering only to the finite. Quite frankly, I wouldn’t buy a used car from this one. The large heart is beyond language or touch…never judges. It answers when I call out Sweetheart.

© 2020 Jennifer Brookins