i'm here.

missing you.
missing me.
missing the spatula to turn the poems over, to turn something over. and i am turned over. definitely feeling burnt on one side, on the inside. trying to feel into when i might be ready to come off the heat and cool down. hoping for a gentler day, forgiving and open. this phase, this beauty ride. i want to find the balance. i want to stop the noise, this idea that i am so late, so behind, so tardy for my dreams. as these other dreams, the ones you can't even dream about because you can't imagine them...they are the miracles, oceans and beauties. i want to stay dressed in the blessed feeling. beauty sleeps so i can write down one more word. i am trying to teach her to soothe herself. i am trying to teach me to soothe myself. she keeps her little sweet mouth open hoping for something to calm her... and if the zucchini had a mouth, it would be open, up against the door of the fridge, crying for me to make that olive oil cake. the kitchen waits for me. the words wait for me. i do what i can with green zebra tomatoes, the beginnings of acorn & kambocha, little red pears. my first frittata with frisee and figs keeps me alive. empty cake plates stand proud and almost grounded. they inspire me. i didn't want to wait one more minute to let you know, i'm still here. just holding on, so i can keep going. holding on tight to this beauty ride. i want to feel light, a souffle of myself or even a crepe might work, flat & round. oh and thin, that could be nice. i could fill me up with berries and chocolate and a squeeze of lemon. i'm here and now i'm hungry. see you in the kitchenxxxx