as the days grow short, evenings cool she braces herself against the wind, the inevitable season of letting go gone are hot summer endless days the reaper raises his sickle, a harvest to collect, alms to the piper she still remembers spring’s greening wasn’t it only yesterday leaf buds swelled from her winter bones, air earthy, damp, fragrant with dew sun slowing its course through the sky… it was yesterday, she remembers it well the hours, the days, the decades slipping through her fingers like sugar, bittersweet letting go the fruit of all her labor like seasons past, seasons yet to come the hearth grows warm, embers glowing her limbs rest heavy with sleep, drifting into this final season of life, too short in retrospect
~kat much love, peace, and glimmers to you…Autumn is in the wings. ✨🌿💚🌿✨
a twin hickory nut tree…perfect for a group hug! ✨💚✨
dawn with the birds
when dawn emerges in the foothills, and the blue jays squawk loudly I scatter peanuts, corn, and meal worms to console them, admittedly though, the mealworms are for a murder…of crows who gather when the jays have quieted and had their fill, when the sun is high in the sky, they feast and jabber, hopping happily around my earnest offering while a lone hawk screeches nearby not at all interested in the corn, the peanuts, not even the mealworms, no, the hawk fancies warm-blooded fare a mourning dove who lingered seconds too long at the seed feeder, or perhaps a finch, young squirrel, or chipmunk, though the latter, I have observed are quite adept at evading capture and ultimate slaughter…there are bees buzzing nearby gathering nectar, dusting pollen as they flit, and hummingbirds hover directly in from of me until we are eye to eye, their wings humming, every morning there is want, expectation, joy, connection, unspoken acknowledgement amidst the looming shadow of carnage, drama, survival, life encapsulated in the simplicity of nature, who in her magnificent wisdom sustains us in an unbroken cycle, the seasons, dawn and dusk, day and night, where nothing is personal, malevolent, or cruel i linger long letting the morning gird me, as I listen, observe, and breathe sweetness of a new day before venturing into the harsh reality where self-absorbed humans deny we are all from dust and to dust we are destined to return the dust on my feet and in my lungs remind me to walk gently…to be kind
It has been a few months since I did a ReVerse poem. It’s a little exercise I do to discover where my head was at over a past period of time. I select a favorite line from each day’s writing and mash them into a new poem in sequential order oldest to recent. It shouldn’t work, but surprisingly, it often does. I give you the summer of 2026 in ReVerse!
Summer of 2026 in ReVerse
I’m still here being when i’m dust, may light filtered through stained glass just a glimmer… Escalate… ‘twas not dawn’s first light I am severely distracted in the shadow of the reaper it is safety, and freedom before the world got heavy devouring the dark night I have survived life happened, life kept happening steam rising from the pavement we remain a fractured fail, sorry celebrating diversity we’re reminded we are one fierceness is just hot air to write or not to write… Put your feet up and rest it is a good day if there is such a place too ignorant to realize I breathe, intentionally, deeply, even the trees look weary, …we can shed what no longer serves us
even the trees look weary, leaves limp, drooping after yet another raging summer storm. they seem to whip through daily downing the weak, the vulnerable, the shallow-rooted, while ripping branch clusters and barren limbs from the strong, resilient, grounded souls having weathered many a tempest…but this season, this season…the assaults are relentless, daily, fueled, as if, by malevolence…
we talk about the weather, while bracing ourselves for the next horrible headline they seem to whip through daily the woke left wondering if it’s too late
as she has for eons, earth will survive this climate shifting season, no doubt, reclaiming the paved-over loam with wild flowers trees bursting through abandoned roofs and rusting remnants of those who tried to tame her… tempests who tried to destroy her
silly, tragic humans…we never learn the trees bear witness to our folly swaying deeply with the wind swaying deeply with the wind
~kat
A glimmer…
Peaceful morning here on the hill…
Izzy settling in as if she’s always been here…💚 Nothing to worry about…nothing to see except hummingbirds backlit by the morning sun.
Much love, peace, and glimmers to sustain you…the dawn is coming.
my thoughts drift to the garden where pink and purple blooms surrender their sweetness to the monarchs, honeybees, and hummingbirds, where moonflower flutes settle slowly after a rousing night of becoming, where does with fawns in tow gather at the gate to greet me as the sun burns though a tapestry of leaves sparkling like emeralds and amber and I breathe, intentionally, deeply, taking it all in…the air that has traveled thousands of miles, visited millions of living beings until residing briefly in my expanded lungs, cooling sustaining, in…release…everything settling to a hum, and I smile… today will be a good day, a very good day
~kat
the brief spectacular lifecycle of a moonflower…today’s glimmer to ponder.
So it is easier for you to find all the parts/chapters of my ongoing fiction series, I created a new page that lists all the links. You can check it out HERE!
Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Kat Myrman and Like Mercury Colliding with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
like mercury colliding... 