I CRUSH the red berries
My fingers turn to BLUSH
I whisper SHUSH
To no one in particular

Georg’ann

Too easily ANGER comes.
BUILD walls, divide the heart.
COUCH loving kindness stitches
outward, complex tapestry.
Wistful to soften hardness.
To be cradled in warmth,
a mother’s soothing “SHUSH”.
Lips pressing softly into tendrils
as her breath kisses tenderness
through head, toward heart.

Heather