soft as a riffle
among the turning pages
a giraffe steps in
I’m not gonna lie. I’ve been in a funk. Deep. Wide. Seemingly endless. Yesterday though, I felt lighter, happier (gulp—afraid to say it aloud). A shift.
I started reading a book that has me thinking in new directions, considering alternate vistas. It’s not just the content of the book, but the timing and way it makes me feel folded like taffy back into myself. Not in an introspective way exactly, but a way that is inclusive and expansive … a generosity of spirit towards myself that is refreshing.
You're perfect just as you are.
This is the giraffe. LOL.
Maaaaaany years ago, writing my first novel, I was researching giraffes and discovered they have an ENORMOUS heart (needed to allow blood flow to their faraway heads). Since then they’ve been a symbol of great, open-hearted love for me. I was playing around with the last line of this poem and the giraffe walked in.
Yes. I thought. Hello. You’re perfect just as you are.