in lieu of errands

Before I write a poem as soft as falling snow, I want to write a note to you.

I will tell you the truth.

The poem will be soft as falling snow and as cold as all that, too. I will not write it from the warmth of a fireplace inside a cabin built by trusting hands.

I will write it from the forest, where my shoes are so wet my feet are wrinkled, where the sky is so full of flurry I cannot see the trees. I will write it bark-bruised, frost-bit, cracked-lip.

Before I respond to messages piled up like autumn leaves, I will write a note to you.

I will tell you the truth.

I could have caught those leaves on their way down. I couldn’t help the falling, but they didn’t need to land, to pile, to bury themselves in their own seasoning.

I will tell you the truth.

A spring weed truth, popping through the pavement like miniature stars. A summer truth, ever-lasting. A warm hug of sunshine that squeezes so hard your skin waters itself to sustain the holding.

Before I do what I have to do, I will write a note to you.

I will tell you how glad I am that you are here, at the end of every pencil I hold, on the other side of every keyboard. I will tell you all the things I don’t know how to say with my voice.

I will tell you that I love you.

And that will be the truth, even when the path is snow-flurry hidden, even when the path is trying to hold back my stars, even when the path is sweating or spiced, or lost, or in the making.

I will tell you the truth.

I will tell you that you are loved, and it will remind me, that I am too. And maybe that will make it easier to do

all the little things

I have to do.

15 thoughts on “in lieu of errands

  1. Your writing fills me up so. Every. Single. Piece. It’s so FULL. And, since your words are always so beautiful, my words can’t ever seem to express the beauty I feel when I read them.

    Liked by 2 people

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