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.

© 2015-2018/Jamie K. Reaser

In loving memory of Kelsey Collins

From “Portraits” (a work in progress)

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.

© 2015-2018/Jamie K. Reaser

From "Wonderment: New and Selected Poems"

To be published by Talking Waters Press

Feel free to share

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.

~ Jamie K. Reaser, Author

From "Plant Songs: New and Selected Poems"
A work in progress

Feel free to share