Adriana.K.Maxwell
Ribbon wraps over small fingers, tying it in the perfect bow over twisty-coiled hair, shimmering braids in the crown of girlhood
Pancakes sit in stacks. The lady in the market booth makes them large and fluffy, serves them with sweetened condensed milk.
Fade softly, color into color, shade to shade, wave retreating, sand drying, disappearing so slowly you don't know until it is gone
Wave, "You are here and I am, too. I see you. I acknowledge that you exist. I may not know your name, I might be too far to speak, but I see you. I know you are here."
She sat counting, lining them up in tallies, and then sweeping them back into the basket. He sat and watched. No talking or she would start over. Grain by grain, in the dusty sun, "Precision," she said, "makes good meditation."
Ember wants to see the world. She wants to reach out and touch. The world is too big and interesting to hesitate, pushing herself forward. Oak sits and watches.
Dark in the night, trees smeared up into the black, star-spangled branches, fireflies flashing like nature's confetti
Sitting at the corner, watching the bikes go by and the cars in the thrum and tide of traffic, drowsy of the crowds of people, mesmerizing like waves of ants
I take the babies to the swing, talk about what the birds are saying, tell them the colors of the cars that drive by, narrate the sprinkler and the windchimes, and sing old songs.
Weave words together into a blanket of warmth and stars for children to snuggle under, painting the galaxy above them, finding their place in the world, soft in the dark
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