book birthday

the bumble bee
when i heard the buzzing,
i was afraid that there was
a wasp in my house;

to my surprise it was just
a big bumble bee—

hello, bumble!

i asked the universe to let her
trust me,
and i held out a hand;
she seemed to recognize i was
trying to help her and she crawled
onto one of my fingers—

as i headed out of the steps
of my apartment and outside she had
managed to walk from one
shoulder to my other shoulder,

and she seemed to buzz in
gratitude;

but it was so loud in my ear
that i waved her away—
but the following day i saw her
checking in on me,
as if to see if i were okay.
–linda m. crate

i rather dance with the moon
i couldn’t begin to tell you
every place where
it hurts,

for there are so many
scars that are only half-healed
or open themselves
when i scratch deep enough
into the wound to feel it again;

so let us not imagine those places—

instead let me dwell in the places
of healing: books, conversations
with friends and family which are
cozy and comfortable, music, poetry,
fantasy books, the forest, underneath
the moon in a sky full of stars, in the
sunlit kisses of the creek, in the wings of
fantasy and imagination where my mind
is prone to go;

for these places bring me joy—

& while i will not deny the pain i’ve known,
i’d rather dance with the moon than relive
all of that misery again.
–linda m. crate

shift in perspective
climbing faery hills
the world seems
a bit more magical than
mundane,

and i am able to see
rainbows of flowers and
colors i may not
otherwise observe;

and i can suck in a deep
breath of fragrant life beauty
and fall in love with the
blue skies and the sunlight dancing
through the trees once more—

sometimes a mere shift
in perspective is needed for
happiness to come flying in.
–linda m. crate

a different world
butterflies do not swim,
neither do fish fly;
but i imagine a world in which
the inverse is true—

a place where you can
swim with
butterflies,
and where sometimes fish
sometimes forget where
they’re flying to and smack you
in the face;

but i can imagine the chaos
it would cause for the drivers
who are simply minding their business

only for a fish to fly into their windshields—

but i still think it would be fun to swim
with butterflies,
imagine how quickly they’d be able to swim
to keep themselves from the hungry maws
of predators;

imagine how their beauty would dance
across the sea.
–linda m. crate

even the sun feels cold
serenity is a state
of mind that i’d like
to reach again,
sick of being caught in the
chaos of all this fear,
all this anger, all this pain;

sometimes the daffodils
help me see the beauty in the
midst of all these nightmares

but i fear i need more light—
i know there’s light within me,
but it feels too weak and dim
to illuminate my soul the way
it needs to shine;

need some other source to touch
me with their fire—
because even the sun feels cold.
–linda m. crate