Laundry Day

Every laundry day when I make the bed,
a certain feline hops up
and we play parachute
as she mews with joy.

Wait, wait, I tell her.
Wait until it’s ready.

I forget between the days
what keeps me alive

The simplicity
The memories
The gratitude

The invention of the fabric that save us
as it billows with the unseen
and carries us gently
through a dimension unknown
but not forgotten.

Image by G.C. from Pixabay

Disguised as Shadow

Nothing but light radiates from the screen
perhaps that is why we are addicted to our phones

As we click, scroll, tap, listen, and watch
Shop, share, bank, and troll
Stalk, laugh, send, and share

Ignoring or dismissing the light above
Locking the light within

If I fall asleep with my phone on my chest
will I absorb the light?

Will is harm or disarm
I’m not sure and don’t want to know

I’d rather ignore the rings and dings

Suddenly the true light shines
I take the call
The one most anticipated

There may be nothing but light
disguised as shadow

Fragrance

Blossoms, oh, I know they are coming soon
But for now they are still,
quiet,
and slumbering.

What do they dream of?
Do they look forward to the eyes,
the voices,
the nibbles,
the sunshine?

Do they care?

Or do they simply wait
and gently arise
with blurry vision
and a yawn or a stretch?

Yellow,
blue,
green,
purple.

The fragrance.
I sow the fragrance.
How can I forget?

The first day of blossoms
that suddenly appear
as I drive down the street.

Suddenly the darkness of winter is swept away.
Not plowed violetnly.

But gently,
ever so gently
the darkness bows and curtsies to the brilliance.

The Fire in My Heart

The burning towers drive him into war
as I imagined lying on the tarmac in protest

How dare you all give him something bigger than himself

How dare you light a fire in his heart
A fire that makes the fire in mine seem dim and small

And there he goes again, driving us all to keep hope alive
To voluntarily open the doors to let it all start again
(or is it involuntary?)

His dad cries and cries and cries again
as I hold him and stay silent
except to write and dream
and pray
and find a way to stay strong and alive

Let the fire in my heart match
and overpower
any ill will,
any harm,
any darkness

Let the fire in his heart keep him safe

Let the wings of angels protect him
and remind him of the reasons to come home.

Fear No Thing

At the moment I fear no thing
no body
no thoughts
no sights
no sounds

I hear once that everything comes from fear or love
So does that mean I currently live in love?

I hope so

Thanks to guardian angels for helping to disperse the fear
into no thing to be feared

It seems impossible and detached and wrong to have no fear
Am I too sheltered?
Do I try too hard to feel safe?
Or is it a new way of being
that extends out to all that hear my voice?

I’ve noticed I sit in the car with my husband
and I trust him

I didn’t always trust him
But now I do.

And I welcome this love into my life.

What Is Left?

Last week my sister reminded me
“It’s been two years. I want you all to know I am thinking of you.”

Two years ago I lost the sound of my father’s voice
No more calls
No more messages
No more visits

It surprised me that he left us all with a profound freedom
A freedom that we can and are surviving without him

He left his encouragement and wisdom that anything is possible
It is still possible to have fascinating and deep conversations
Feel alive
Be reminded of him in so many wonderful parts of this world.
And to express frustration with the seemingly unjust
Or what seems very, very wrong.

To listen and say, “I’m sorry I didn’t protect you”
“I’m sorry I cannot fix you.”

To say “I lost” sounds like it was all a competition
But it’s not.
Even though I heard him say last week,
“There you go!”

On Her Back Were Angel Wings

There was once a girl who stood with a pone at the water’s edge
looking forlorn and gloomy

And on the pony’s back appeared an angel
saying, “I’ve been with you your entire life”
“I was there to protect you when you were small”

The girl look down at the water and saw her reflection
in the water now calm and clear

She saw herself riding a stallion, tall and proud
holding the staff of a warrior
and on her back were angel wings.

– Wendy Who Walks With Wildflowers

© 2026 All rights reserved. Wendy Hurd.

Woefully We Wander and Wonder

I wondered how to wander
as I walked slowly on the gravel path.

Breathing lightly and trusting all is well
I looked up to the sky and marveled
at the blue hue.

And then, as if by invitation
I noticed a tree bending in a beckoning way.

I paused at the tree,
and wondered what message it had for me.

“Be Me”

I heard clearly in my mind.

As I wandered up the steps
made of earth, iron and wood,
I considered the words.

What?
Me be like a tree?

Yes!

Be strong.
Be open.
Trust all is well.
Reach to the sky.
Receive the light
the rain.

Stay grounded.
Stay connected

And delight in the random beings
that listen and care.

Wonder not if you are perfect.

Wander always along your path.

September 17, 2025

Wendy Who Walks With Wildflowers (Wendy Hurd)
© 2025. All Rights Reserved.

A Platter of Words

In this moment I feel called to serve
a tray of words that others may pick and choose.
Layer them, taste them, wash them down with lemonade.
Please take them for what they are
and expression of that I give you.
Some may be over baked
left in the oven too long.
Some may be sweet or sour or savory.
What I’d like to serve are the words
that help to ease and comfort.
To connect and start something new.
From this platter of words
I hope they serve as an appetizer
to ready your mind for
a feast to enjoy.

— Wendy Who Walks With Wildflowers

The Simplicity of It All

All at once the gratitude falls from the sky
and reminds me of the fear residing in the rumble and sway.
Where do the birds find shelter?
Do they too feel gratitude?
Or are they themselves an expression of gratitude
in the way they take flight and survive each moment
in the simplicity of it all.
Grateful, I am for the line,
“One breath divides this world and the next.”
As if I can go there instantly.
I’d love to be in the world
where ancient boulders scatter the earth
as if a giant being allowed them to tumble
from a bucket of dreams.
Rather than carry the bucket,
the weight became light as air
and the dreams were released for all to share.

— Wendy Who Walks With Wildflowers