The wind blows loose sand along the beach, dancing over wet and damp and pebbles left by tides and small children. Footprints sink, filling with water, then melting into the land as the birds fly overhead, curious only for foe or food. Hopes float on seafoam and tumble in the troughs of waves, borne on Neptune's shoulders while we search the shore for treasures. -KJ Roe
Stars.
It’s the time of year that, if it’s clear, I can look up at them in the morning on the way to work, and again as I walk out to my car to go home at the end of the day.
I can step outside at midnight or at one am, or at four, and breathe deep frozen night air, and lift my face to thousands of diamonds so much more beautiful than the earthly kind.
Each time, I am awed.
Awed by the beauty. Awed by the infinite nature of space and the uncountable stars. I contemplate the virtually unchangeable nature of the constellations, the same for thousands if years, so that the names we call them were given by ancient astronomers.
Yet they are not completely static. Some nights, some stars are visible, while others are not. It becomes a game of hide and seek to find which are out in the open this night, at this time, from this vantage point on the earth. To the novice like me, it is a surprise to see a star appear, twinkling in laughter at some celestial joke, while I stand gaping on this little speck of dirt.
They twinkle and they shine, and they light the way for a soul wanderer who is sometimes a little lost. They look down and watch.
They guide ocean’s captain and road’s traveler.
They whisper endearments in words of starlight and bedtime wishes.
The stars hold wonder and hope in a thousand, thousand pinpricks of light.
Let’s stargaze, you and I.
-KJ Roe
Lacy lines in frost
in curling leaf,
in this, her
paling face
The gray peers out
from colors
applied, an
artistry betraying
the battles fought
and the never-presented
decorations
of a life soldier
A map of blue
and purple
veins tangled
intersections on her
hands, trails along
arms and legs
and feet
Fluttering lash,
lover’s voice
summons recollection
as she stands on
the threshold
where he cannot carry
And in her newly
clear vision
the current of
their tears
washes away
leagues, and their
ships shelter together
in a harbor
of memory
and grief
-KJ Roe
I forget, sometimes,
what it is to be me. In the bustle
of everyday and the demands coming
every way, I forget how to hear
that quiet voice,
how to just
relax
into that person who is
soft, and serene, and
vulnerably and wholly at
peace with herself.
The quiet is filled with
noise
because That Me loves and
needs the voices and
laughter and companionship
of those I love and those
I admire and those who,
bless them, love me.
That Me wants to help and
thrives on participating
and encouraging and
bringing a bit of sunshine
into the world.
But.
That Me
also needs
The hush of sitting in
nature, so quiet the buzz
of insect wings is an
exclamation and the song of
whispering leaves is a
lullaby.
She needs the lapping and
gurgling of water that has
seen
greater travels
and alpine meadows
and has looked down at the
small greatness
of Earth
from a cloud's-eye perch
in the sky.
She needs the caress of
the breeze and the kiss of
the sun and the rain
running down her cheeks.
She needs the strain of
effort and strength of will
and accepted challenge of
lake and trail.
And as her eyes are dazzled by
the color-washed sun
settling behind the hills,
As her limbs stretch in
rebuilt muscle and her soul
in regained tranquility,
My heart beats
in patterns of eons
that transcend
the cry of minutes
and the crowding
rush of days.
-KJ Roe
Suspended
in the sound of leaves
mimicking water's hushed
rush under the
chee-chee-hee-hee of
goshawks and sparrows
countered by a duck's
scolding call
Dry yellow grass
interrupted in its plodding
monologue by the
impudence of green
upstarts stretching towards
evening's golden light
Whistling songs alight on
the breeze as stripey things
buzz around blossoms
and petals soaking up
summer's short shining
Tall grasses who haven't met
this year's mower dance
freedom of unbridled growth
and the trees burst forth
in songbirds of laughter
leaves tickling their
parchment-paper bark
Coaxing them out of
deep-rooted wonderings
to play chase with the
day's shadows
and rock-a-bye
lullaby in the
slumbers
of the
night
-KJ Roe
Swirling, howling, blasting
the wind beats at the door
Shutters shudder, clinging
to their perch, and
door holds the line
while chill infiltrates
the weak spots where
seals just can’t hold out
Windows withstand the onslaught
though their groans slip
between their panes
And in the dark,
fading certainty
trembling bravado
and the fearful hollow
where confidence once
had flamed
-KJ Roe
She watched as the ghostly bodies floated, gracefully pulling in on themselves and then pushing out, a stretch against the engulfing press of water. Sliding between forms, from widely-blooming flower to deeply-rounded bowl to mushroom cap, decorated with the fringe of numerous tiny tentacles. Some appeared content to simply rise on the upward current; others moved in some unknowable dance, gliding into one another, slipping past, each briefly molding itself according to its nearest partner. Their bodies glowed, ethereal and translucent in this inky Neptunian ballroom. She wished that, for just one moment, she could feel such grace lighting her own limbs, giving life to the beauty that ached within her soul.
-KJ Roe
The glow of warm lights
wraps its arms around
traveler and couple
and quiet dreamer
gazing out
at the flurries, the
same in their shade
and in their cold
and in their errant,
erratic, swirling descent
toward frozen ground
The variety of their paths
a feast to those who look,
intricacies of their individual
shapes noted by the dedicated
and the patient and the
ones who look deep,
infinitely different,
Infinitely beautiful,
each one a fingerprint
of its own faithful
hopes, dreams of
drift or tree-lace
or child’s laughing
snowball-fight screams
Evidence of their
numbers piling up
in hills and cakes, covering
roofs and transforming
landscapes into a
new sort of world
where the magic
of wonder and the
power of love
illuminate
the darkness,
where hearts hold
no malice,
where brother
recognizes brother,
no matter his shape
no matter his shade
Snowflakes dancing,
drifting, bumping
their way through a life of
indescribable
Beauty and
unpredictable winds,
and the shapes we make
as we come together
become
the picture of our legacy
before our bodies
melt into the land
-KJ Roe
Soft and pliant
No shield
No boundaries
No protections
Now hidden, now enwrapped
As a being ensorcelled
Cocooned in layers
A chrysalis of experiences
Of losses
And breakings
And shatterings
Now emerging, now changed
A creature unexpected
Broken from layers
A freedom of scars
– They didn’t warn of the pain.
-KJ Roe
Daytimers don’t know
how the night
becomes a magical place
how the meadow shines
in its secret way
when the moon traces
her fingers on the snow
They’ve never stood
grinning up in delight
at scattered stars
gazing back from deepest skies,
nor watched the
world
become
a faery place
with silver leaves
and lucent boughs
and creatures stirring
in the shadows
They don’t long for
Luna’s sweet caress, nor
for Selene’s gentle breeze,
never fall yielding to
the allure of the gloaming’s
whispered mysteries
They don’t feel
the cool hand of eve
touch their cheeks
nor hear the songs of galaxies
drifting down in chimes
of star beams and moon shine
and Aurora’s dancing
luminosity
Daytimers don’t know
how the night
becomes a wondrous place
They don’t know
the adoration of
the beauty
of the night
-KJ Roe
Dreams of Shadow and Light 