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About This Author
A changeling spirit,
constantly evolving,
revolving around an inner core,
spinning forth legend and lore,
stories and lives
as I come to grips
with who and what I am,
have been and may be.
I am a phoenix:
rising ever above and beyond!
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Simple Little Things
So simple.
The little things he does
that make me ridiculously happy.
When I'm taking a nap
he quietly, quietly,
will get coffee ready,
pick out a specific mug
so all I have to do
is push a button.
A weekend morning,
one day or the other,
he drives uptown
to get me glazed donuts,
enjoying the glazed look in my eyes
more than his apple fritter.
He once told someone
(where I could hear him)
that there'd never, ever be
another Mrs. Moyer.
Almost seventeen years married,
he still calls me Mrs.,
says the grin he gets when he does
makes his day.
A rose for every year-
yellow ones because
yellow is for your best friend
and I'm his.
The rest of the year,
he'll go for a walk in the woods
or through a meadow
and bring me bouquets
of wild flowers.
When lilacs are in bloom
he brings me entire armfulls.
He'll put gas in the car,
check my tires. Surprise me
with silly gifts that make us laugh
just because. He reminds me
to water my plants because
he knows I'll forget.
He doesn't read my books, or poems.
He does not like to read.
And yet, he'll listen of an evening,
for as long as I want to read out loud.
His smiles are priceless.
At least three things. I could
continue this list for days, months.
He has raised the bar
on the little things he does,
beyond anyone, ever.
So Simple;
the little things.
We practice the art
of little, of simple.
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