I send you roses. And warm fuzzies. And Cinderella’s horseshoe I have on my mantle.
I send you sunshine, and blue skies, and white puffy clouds that come in funny animal shapes.
I send you rainbows, and dewdrops, and the soft scent of rain;
the smell of freshly mown grass in the farmer’s field;
meadows of wild flowers; sheep, content.
I send you healing thoughts; your mother’s hands to hold you in warm embrace;
fresh loaves of homemade bread; sunflowers; and a night sky filled with stars.
I send you wind through pine trees whispering; the song of your sisters singing.
I send you your child’s first word; a purring kitten on your lap; fireflies dancing the dark;
and a garden, filled to overflowing, waiting for canning.
I send you a basket, woven of marsh grasses, lined in velvet,
full of wonder and love.
I send you butterflies and the 4th of July; rubies, and Christmas;
a circle of friends to hold you; and a seat by a warm fire.
For you, I light a candle.
I send you peace.
© June 1995 by D.W. Johnson
On a Thought Of Leaving Home and Coming Here
The next time I come (here)
I will go (this way)
I am always coming or going–
Coming to stillness; going out of chaos.
Coming from work; going home.
Coming from home; going to a friend’s house.
Coming from the grocery; going to the book shop.
It is the pattern of my life–
I am coming in; I am going out.
Breathing in; breathing out.
What is left from the wake of the wave.
So if I say, “I don’t know if I am coming or going”, what does it matter?
I am in step with what I am…
A part of it.
© August 26, 2005 by D.W. Johnson