Andi Leigh Writes

The clouds cry, The sky screams; Flashing its fists And shaking the trees. The world is blue, And gray—so pale. The grass is famished And flowers don't care. The sorrow above will Spread triumph below, And the earth softens Like woven calico.

Day done, checked— A memorable mark On the calendar, Now swept to sleep. I'd crave for it to Repeat, but we Cannot recreate the Unknown that now Is known. So we'll look back Instead and smile.

Dirty your shoes without worry— With no ending destination in mind; Just take all the breaths you can And wipe your glasses clean. Our world is out there and we Can paint and stain and laugh Or bear the pain. We are free when we don't think About chains. We are anything we Want to be—and everything We are to each other. So let's share our food, woes, and Hearts and know that nothing will Stay the same but we can live— Together, making our mundanity Worth more than anything Outside of us.

Today, I turned twenty-nine. Although I feel like ten years Haven't even passed by. I still feel as aimless as I did before; Hopeful that the future will Offer me more. I go day by day; that's the best I can do. I'm glad that I'm aging and Still learning too.

Sometimes, I pluck and bear A lemon heart And it reels in the emptiness That occupies the voiceless night. And sometimes, I forget that The lemon heart can be put aside And that the night has no interest In quarreling with someone Who may refuse to pluck Sweeter fruits.

Do the dead Paint the sky? And when we Look up, Do we see all That they've Worked for? From the early Morn palette To the nightly Shades— We'll all grab A brush One day.

In a field, There may have been A fox— I thought I saw its tail; A picture almost clear, But blurred, By our vehicular gale. I thought I saw That it had A friend— A daring little deer. Both content Out in the open; Ignoring the engines That they hear.

Peripheral  Shadow, Please do not stalk, Please do not walk Into frame. Be just a mishap in Vision, The lighting's to Blame. When the lamp Flickers on, Dear shadow, you're Gone—I still feel Your stare. Peripheral Shadow, A smudge in the dark, It smiled. I swear.

We talk of the elegy Of our wastebin dreams. We twirl on the grave Of oh wells. There are groves of Refreshed perspectives, There's no need To avoid the glass shells. Let us stomp On the fragments that May be lost, Let us collage what Refuses to change. We scoff at the thought Of conformity, No painless road Will let us stay strange.

Let's hop in our Secondhand car And leave our troubles In a box At the side of a road We'll never see again. We can inhale the forest air And taste the lake scent On the breeze. Our ears will ring With soundtracks that we Hold close, Our hearts will lighten In the sunset. Our headlights will guide us Through the passing night; All because our troubles Made us want to drive.

A smile arrives in the window From the bird looking in, But its curious eyes go wide When a black cat chatters, When a second black cat Paws at the glass—the bird Flies away with its heart While the brothers are left To turn to their bowls On the effortless floor.

On the other side of The white front door— What's there? Is it a placid day—or One where anxieties Bubble? Is it summer storms—or Just the heat that Takes all thought away? The door remains Closed But we all have to leave Sometime. The door remains Closed But the lock won't Hold back Whatever lurks—whatever I need to face. I'm here with the power Of the deadbolt at my Unsteady fingertips.

I wish I were a succulent. Able to thrive  On one big gulp of water— That's all that's needed To beat the arid leer of The stale world. With colors plump, Showing scarcity that I Won't give up my fill. I'll sit patiently in my Pretty pot—unbothered.

Red beetle,  Black beetle, Sing a wary song. Heat waves Take the seltzer— Cannot get along. Red beetle, Black beetle, Hear the sighs. Take a look around— Find a big surprise. Red beetle, Black beetle, Stay away. Burn a bit of sage— Keep the bugs at bay.

Caffeine daydream, Droplet sky, Broken table with No reason why. Spilled black pepper, Cats that cry, There is a cloud Stuck in my eye.

By the sun-boiled creek The geese walk in a line. The flower garden's full Of wispy butterflies. There's a train on the track; Leave no one behind— Or else how will they see And love The park in summertime? We can hide in the shade Or get sunburnt in the field— Admire ornate sculptures While we eat a picnic meal. And when winter sets in This place will go to sleep. The park in summertime Will feel like an antique.

Ever since The coal hearts Were set ablaze, We don't disturb What others Have seen turn To ash. We'll let them Smolder For as long as They are willing— Beyond death; For eternity.

The tick-tock of the heart Will one day Stop, Still— In the palm Of Death herself, And she'll place The broken gears And rusted springs On a shelf— Remembered only When people who Care walk by— To take a glance At the pieces Left behind.

A pocket-full Of raspberry leaf, The chime of A bell, The twinkle in A giddy eye, Ink for a Written spell. A candle with A tall flame, Clear water in A bowl, The fragrance of Clary sage To soothe the Aching soul.

We offer Home-cooked Smiles— The walls cackle While we laugh And dance With no rhythm But we're unfettered, Together And veiled.

Wrapped in cotton, Like a cloud— Stretching out the Pain that makes bones Wither, Air-popping relief and Deep breaths speak for Themselves. There is nothing more To be done, But hum and wiggle The toes that have been Bent and sting. Loose hours spent Selfishly—deservingly so. Lost leisure reclaimed And the home Feels like silk. There is nothing more To be done. No need to wear glasses— The days have been soft Like the cotton that takes The dirt off of tired skin.

I see it all from The window— Leaves strong But trembling; Uncontrolled like Mood swings, Looking fearful Against A darkening sky, But possibly Letting loose and Accepting the ride. And I am still at The window— Fixed in my Lightbulb glow. Unmoved until I step through The door, And become like The leaves— Guided To endure more.

The rush of water, Cool— Consoling In this spiced July. I'll drink my fill And sweat it out— Think of autumn To get by. I miss colder days and The layers I would wear, And of course There's no need to sweat When the heat Isn't there.

My cats are bouncing off the wall, One's giving me a crooked smile. A hopeful look to thoughtless eyes; Wanting treats to pass the time.

When my eyes opened, I wanted to rise like winds And bring in scents of Crisp basil to cheer up My tepid morning. And I breathed before The humid afternoon could Extinguish my force. Yes, I breathed in the basil— Soundlessly thinking Of what I can bring about When I let the gale wake.

I've got a moonstone in my pocket And new opals found their way To me—glimmering and making Light brighter—I want that gleam forever; Iridescence showing me that it's okay To look from many different angles And to keep my peace of mind With an easy-to-reach palm stone.

We are moving along, Even though we Want to quit—there is No sign of stopping. Our footprints Trail behind us, Letting us know where We've been, how far We've come, up until That history gets Blown away, then we Make more—while keeping Our thoughts of perseverance Out of the wind And we move, hoping that One day we'll reach The end of our erasure, And our footprints will be Cemented, showing ourselves— And everyone else—the  Determination We needed to maintain.

A day like vinegar But I am like oil, Settled and unguarded From the tartness Unexpected, But I need not worry; Since we hardly mix, And no emulsion will Occur if the sour day Keeps me afloat And not one thing Shakes the jar.

Cloaked in a Spiral, Cut with the Hopeful past— Revival on  Horizons; Oncoming Days are vast.

At rainbow's end The heart beats, Flinging color-stricken Singularities through The prism of the soul.

We're in the shade While the world flourishes, And one day we'll catch up; Becoming part of it all— In the way we want to, But until then we'll take sips Of our water and bask In the shadow Of our circumstances.