Tending My Soul

Tending my soul
like the small potted Daffodil
on kitchen ledge
while the
Bougainvillea outdoor
splurges
and spills

over the white
washed walls
into warm afternoon
S-U-N

Soul weary warrior
So, we begin again

Holding shallow-beating
heart
small as a blue gray bird.
Warm hands
cupping soul face.

Curling into His side,
Soul yawns and unwinds languidly
licking lips
speaking love sonnets

Breath Hold
Toes unfurl
and pull in

Soul stretches
tiptoed
to
heaven

Exhale
Dear One
Just be Held
Centered

Tending is plaiting
strands of life back in three
like mama’s hands soothing hair
sweet-scented oil lacquered there
in cracked dry and weary places

I rub soul’s back
Sing lullaby
Say

Sit quiet child now
O’my soul sit quiet
Sit still

be
on Pappa’s lap