Feeling poetic this morning…

To help heal my heart, restless with grief

I talk to the flowers and the birds and butterflies.

Share my old crusts of bread and apple cores with the crows.

I dig holes in the dirt then put plants in the holes and whisper sweet nothings to them,

stroke their delicate branches with my fingers.

I suppose I am lonesome from time to time.

And yet I keep looking each day for the lights in the darkness,

And I say my thanks for this beautiful, painful life in my own ways.

Bare feet on grass damp in the morning light.

Heart East towards the promise of a new day.

Heart East

By Jamie Sims Coakley