Winter Chill

7 Words

cold front
cut the line
carrying w i n t e r

Da Ai (Greatest Love)

A narrative audio poem

Photo by Michael Lane via Redshot
Da Ai (Greatest Love) Audio

it is Saturday morning
before the birdsong ends,
my neighbor tests his drone.
he prepares its landing
just before Jernee and I
cross his path.
he giggles excitedly at his
accomplishment.

I say to him, “Like a little
kid on Christmas Day.”
he responds, “Almost.”
the joy shivering through
his skin is contagious.
I giggle too.
I watch him swoop his
body through the air — throwing
it at the sun, following the seeker.

this moment of happiness
is logged into my
memory bank. I’m
blessed by its occurrence.
he crosses over from his
side of the complex to
mine, plants his feet onto
Autumn’d grass, and sets his
toy free into the air again.

his smile remains.
I pick up my stride
getting close to our building
I feel the pressing of air
charging for my veins.
this is my favorite season — 
it pulls my body out of
mourning and we welcome
the dead and the dying
knowing new life is ahead.

the sun opens its eyes,
clearing the crust of the
previous night, and light
kisses my face. I motion
my eyes to my neighbor and
he’s shooting his head in small
spurts to the right, guiding
his robotic friend to safety.

Jernee is a strutter.
she attacks our walks with
the vigor of a playful puppy instead
of a senior and I am somewhat
jealous of this gift.
I pace myself, battling a
shoddy ankle from a shower fall
five years ago.
the pain still lingers, but
I fight it head-on.

the greatest love for me
at this very moment is
walking ahead of me,
tags and metal identifiers clinking
together — little random bells
making their own music.
a signal that we have arrived
home and can now 
find sweet rest.


*Author’s Note: I am currently reading, Greatest Love by Dr. & Master Zhi Gang Sha with Master Maya Mackie and Master Francisco Quintero. It’s a great piece of literature in which to lose myself after a few stressful days of work.

Originally published in The Junction via Medium.

on the cusp of an unknown

“they say” Elsa is on the way;
ready ourselves for the inevitability
of thunderstorms
yet the sun is skydiving
without a care in the world and
I’m growing skeptical.

I want to be prepared;
steer clear of windows and
shut down all electronic devices
in a timely manner;
I can’t help it–every time there’s
a storm, I hear my mother’s voice;
“Turn off those lights and
that damn tv! God is talking!”

shouldn’t I be mindful if
in fact, God IS speaking?

meteorologists are tapping their
pointers at markers on their
maps, unsure of exact touchdown
points yet “We should be on the
lookout” for damaging winds
and heavy rain
and every year, during
hurricane season, my anxiety
levels are heightened.

there’s a new storm named
every other day, it seems . . .
why does the ocean argue
with the sky?
who is monitoring its raised voice
or defending the shores
and the pleading animals?

Elsa may show up with
a pent-up wrath buried inside
her and I say, “let it rip but
just have mercy.”
the souls of man
could use a cleansing.