©2021 Susan Noyes Anderson

image by Steinar Engeland

Grief was a ghost with an ache in her chest
and a lot of emotions that scared me to death.
She was love with no outlet and pain with too many…
had little control and less grace (scarcely any).
Her feelings exploded on walls and on ceilings
in chaos, a state not conducive to healing;
and even when she settled down for a while,
she could never be trusted. Her sad little smile
was a lid (a loose lid) on a cauldron of loss,
and she spent every moment just counting the cost.

©2021 Susan Noyes Anderson

image by Aleksandr Ledogoro

Beauty is in the simple things
that ease into a willing heart:
Dusk falls, then calls forth starling wings
while sun and moon paint works of art.

©2021 Susan Noyes Anderson

My years of life have made me tough.
But lately, it’s been kinda rough.
I’ve rocked the highways, low ways, byways.
Nowadays, things seem sorta sideways.

©2021 Susan Noyes Anderson

image by Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash

I’ve always been an early riser,
but I still enjoyed my bed.
Now I leap out like a rabbit,
scared a fox might have my head.

©2021 Susan Noyes Anderson

image by Zeynap Emecikli on Unsplash

I wasn’t blind to them;
I saw your flaws.
But greatness was the thing that held my eye.

©2021 Susan Noyes Anderson

image by Johann Siemens on Unsplash

You said I was your giving tree,
my foliage tendered to your need:
the branches and the greenery,
the trunk sliced deep enough to bleed.

©2021 Susan Noyes Anderson

My do-it-yourselfish man
sealed up the tile, after
installers grouted pits.

©2021 Susan Noyes Anderson

The little book you gave to me
about a lovely giving tree
has rooted on the polished wood
that holds the tomes my heart deems good.