Tuesday, March 31, 2015

You Are Deserving




















Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser

I’m not sure that the little black cat wanted
to be held, but she was going to make sure
that it experienced human love before she
passed back through the gate and onto the
street we would use to go someplace else.

That was her boundless way: to assume that
love simply belonged in a place and to put
it there whenever it occurred to her to do so.

It’s an interesting way to live:

being uncompromising in one’s stance that this
world make a place for love. I think, perhaps,
she realized that time was of the essence, that
there are so many of us that need to be picked
up and shown, in no uncertain terms, that we are
deserving. One can wander the yard for years
without knowing such a vital thing.

This morning, I’ve been wondering what happened
to that little black cat. Maybe the power of her love
magically turned it into something else later that
day. I’m imagining it now as a feisty angel. In my
mind’s eye, it has come from the heavens to pick
her up, ready or not, saying:

“Love. You are deserving!”

And, through the gate she goes.


© 2015-2016/Jamie K. Reaser
For Kelsey Collins
From “Portraits” (a work in progress)

Saturday, March 21, 2015

When Spring Teases
















Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser


Sometimes the words that come by 
say: “Don’t listen to me. Not yet.”
They know this makes me curious,
and attentive.

Right now, spring is doing the same thing;
she’s teasing,

and I want her presence all the more.



© 2015-2017/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Wonderment: New and Selected Poems"
To be published by Talking Waters Press

Feel free to share

Wednesday, March 4, 2015

The Crocus
















Photo: (c) Jamie K. Reaser


You haven’t been able to see it, but it has been
there all along. There, in the darkness. The harsh
times always ask us to put faith in the invisible.

I’ve watched the gaunt squirrels searching for it.
Sometimes they prevail, pressing their noses into
leaf litter and mulch. Scratching. Sniffing again.
Scratching some more. Then, they get greedy.

Often, they move on, sad and empty, but hopeful
that something else will satiate. Soon.  And, it
continues to be there, contemplating its worth
and waiting to be of some beautiful use.

I wonder what goes on inside of it when the
Earth’s embrace turns from hard and cold to
soft and warm. Surprise? Delight? A teary
emotional release?

Something like that, I imagine.

By this age, you’d think I’d know. For sure.
But, I don’t.  I will tell you, when I do.



©2015-2016/Jamie K. Reaser
From "Wonderment: New and Selected Poems"
To be published by Talking Water Press

Feel free to share