Nectar on my tongue,
Whispers, thick and smooth,
Wake up while you’re young,
Patch the patterned grooves,

Before they sink in deeper,
unforgiven, hidden, rigid,
Becoming your keeper
Of confinement, my friend.

I simply do not know.
I only just arrived.
I am willing to give it a go.
That is, being a butterfly.

Can you give me some advice?
How to land gracefully?
Is it the luck of dice?
How to pass mindfully,

Narcissus to sunflower?
When to open wings to wind?
When to put in hours?
When to rise from midnight spin?

How to become a dancer,
Partnered with the sun?
Wait, please don’t answer,
Not knowing sparks the fun.

Jeanne – while eating Nutella “nectar” in her room, after welcoming the day with 7am meditation at Upaya Zen Center, Teahouse oatmeal with Ingrid, Body yoga with Emily, and a sunlight soak, ahhh, then a rested, poetic mind awoke.

Also:

“Inspirit”: meaning to inspire by or with one’s spirit

Inspirit, a new word,
Created by happenstance,
as gmail edited,
automatically, the mistype,
of “Inspire” in a note
to my mother. Mom,
you not only inspire me,
you “inspirit” me too