Mornings in a zoo

As the alarm cries for awakening the house, I soothe its pain and shut it down.
The soft gurgle of the water from tanks creeps slowly into reality.
Chirping and clicking comes from my furry little darling as he asks for his exercise wheel.
Rising I give him what he asks for, then begin the slow task of flipping on the lights.
Its reward, a slow smile from a sleepy gecko. What a happy way to begin the day.

Chaos in quiet moments

The soft lullaby of pan flutes lilting through the air.
Calming and tranquil, the chill of the morning air enough to feel
like you are genuinely greeting the sunrise all alone on this earth.
Doors fling open and yelling and shoving spill through a gateway to the other world.
laughing and teasing chasing away the flutes, the crisp kiss of morning receding from reach.
with a heavy sigh I turn and smile, the children have arrived for class.

Whispers in the snow

The edge of night still grasping the sky
the sun trying to sneak by
the soft whisper of snow falling, caressing all it touches
the early morning can be so intimate and yet so completely lonely. 

Day one

A new beginning, a new year
it crept up after such a strong an emotional countdown.
Now I sit,  listening to the soft silence of snow falling,
and wonder what to do? What is next?
A soft muzzle jostles me from my ruminations. 
Next, we play ball.

Small Kindnesses

  Growing up, things weren't always easy for me. Not due to anything more than a small amount of scarring on my face. It was something that should have been overlooked, but never was. Day after day kids cruelly pointed it out, called names, and excluded you because you look different. It hurt, but I always tried to ignore it. I applied myself elsewhere. School and learning was a high priority, sports came in second. They had to include you on a team sport. Years would traipse by and I never thought a bit of how my day to day effected anyone. 
  I can not tell you what day it was, how the weather was, or whether or not I was in a mood or not. I can tell you however, my youngest sister came beaming in the door, arriving from school with a sheet of paper in her hand and a small aluminum wrapped soda can. She looked so proud as she marched up to me and thrust her hands out. 
 " This is for you. Read it." Her demand was adorable,and completely unexpected. I reached out and gathered the small gifts from her. Turning the can over in my hand I read in childish hand writing, " Your Great! I love You!" A tiny pink horse and a dark blue marble nestled near a big flower in hues of peach. Stickers were placed in each of the blank spaces she had felt needed a bit of something. I grinned. Her and I so rarely got along, this in itself was truly touching, but then my eyes drifted to the letter. 
   As I read over each word her sweet little heart had put down describing how truly inspiring I was to her, tears filled my eyes. They still do to this day. My cute , annoying little sister told me I was her hero. I was her Hero for being able to keep my head up through teasing, and silly childhood misunderstandings. To her that was such an amazing thing. Something I had considered coping and moving on, she considered a triumph. To this day I pull out her letter and read over each of the words. Being moved to tears each time. My small soda can wrapped still sits where I can see it, it looks a little worse for wear, but I diligently try to preserve the most beautiful trophy I ever earned, the unconditional love of a sister. 

A silent storm

Pain
Gripping my heart squeezing it , until barely I can draw a small breath.
Agony
Tearing ripping at me. I watch hopes and dream slowly dying before me. Turning to ash and slipping through fingers , desperate to hold on to one small shred of what could have been. 
Tears
Falling, unrestrained they cascade down my cheeks. Parading the despair and hurt that ride the tidal wave of each and every drop. Seeping away any attempt to try to hold on to any form of control. Its too late, I have lost any control.
Resigned
Looking at the path I have chosen, lamenting over paths gone by. Resignation takes the forefront. I can no longer fight, I can no longer hope of winning. All I can do is grasp the small shreds of possibilities that are no longer possible. Cling to dreams that have faded to black and become a distant warm memory. 

A small Stone

The silence is heavy like an elephant on my chest.
Words seem to escape my lips but fly noiselessly across the room to only fall upon deaf ears.
Weeping on the inside, I have no where to turn, alone , I wipe the tears and put on the brave face.
All is well in the word, at least that's the story they hear.