Diving in
I hear you calling me and
I run to you. You say my name
and I melt like butter in heat
for you.
I sit still listening to you
telling me stories.
I close my eyes, immersing in the lullabies of your voice
letting go of my existence
fading gently
giving way to your stillness
caressing your soul
your fragile air
and my body gives way.
Are you there yet my love, are you there?
© Angela Aguiar
September is here and so is Autumn.
The start of equinox
the transition of summer flowers to the chills of winter blues.
When the temperature begin to dip and
the leaves twirl into a psychedelic dance of “I look prettier than you are” yellow, red, orange and brown hue
mutating into a marmalade of a perfect combustible pile of polychromatic mess.
When you grieve the fresh flower
your mood jerks into silent essence
the streets are dry
the baking of the bread in the air
wearing white is a crime.
When you are up high in the the mountains
squashing away your sorrows
the sound of Spring is yesterday news
the birds go astray
the sky is a canvas
the cloud a pencil.
Slave to an array of mesmerizing sunsets, the colors echo
the wind breezes roaring ivory tunes palatably in your hears.
Bring in the sweater, the jacket, the boots, the hat, Autumn is here.
Run through the cornfields and
touch the beautiful changes clustered around the tree
break into a delicate gorgeous pirouette
and blow away the lonesome leaf.
Time for hot cocoa and warm tea, pumpkin and apple pie, sweet potato, chestnuts, and… yes, beautiful smiling faces!
© Angela Aguiar
The sunset just as the sunrise tickles me. I find it pure, dramatic, mystical and artistic. As the sun begins to sail, it let’s my mind wonder, calling out the morning light, embracing the singing colors on the horizon, the sweet taste of blackberries. It let’s my mind be creative as I sketch the picture perfect moon. Listening to the song of the crickets on the hills, I relish; dancing to the sound of the wind blowing, I close my eyes and let down my hair inhaling the air, daydreaming, I fantasy. I fantasy with here and there, now and tomorrow, what will and what is, the abstruseness of the innocence. I do. I fantasy, fancying that misty smile and an exterior louder then my voice, the tired and sweaty sunsets, caressing innocent children frolicking in the night while smiling at the moon. Yes, it is summer after all when the sunset is charming and the moon is a spitting distance away.
ludlum drive 
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