I am a sifter filled with floured memories. Shaking them down through metal mesh, turning a crank while dusty white turns into particles of gold. And I am panning through the nuggets knowing they are all gold. In fact, all are gems. I shake from side to side the pan sifting through and naming each one priceless – the dull and the shiny. The dim and the sparkled. Spattered with dust that flakes off the corners of a life.
I am an archivist searching through the rubble and the ruin, finding life among it all. Shovel and pick strike the dark dirt of possibility. And excavate a voice buried in the wet black soil of waiting.
I am a wanderer, slow walker down the paths of sun-drenched beginnings. Stumbler, mad-dasher, free-falling, zig-zagger changing it up, discovering what has been there all along.
I am a beauty-seeker. Finding a seat on a leather perch, peddling down gravel and sand, concrete and asphalt, weaving in and weaving out. I am a trail-blazer of the ordinary. Going in circles again and again. Riding restless and riding at peace. Turning down lanes of ivy and honeysuckle. Following fragrant folly down narrow paths covered in petals of spent blossom days.
I am a receiver of gifts, unfathomable, unparalleled, unnameable and new. Peeling back layers of wrapping to breath in the smell of love in the offerings laid at my feet. Ripe for the picking, unpacking, palpable seasoned with love.
And I am a child, learning to walk, to move from the pablum on to the banquet. To run and to twirl, to seek and to name, to climb and cling to each tree trunk and rope swing. To laugh and to fall, to sing and to dance.
I am an acrobat, balancing life, on a thin tight rope of wonderful beautiful magnificent days.
I am sous-chef cooking up feasts for ravenous curious hungry me. And mine. And ours. Seeking to sprinkle the right mix of herb and spice. Folding in nutrients for heart and soul. I am a planner and thrower of fetes. Singing and lighting the candles of celebration. One wick at a splendid time.
I am a journeyman looking for places to pour out the offerings of gifts of love. To give as been given to or more or beyond. And I am a cartophrapher mapping out moments. Spilling my soul into spontaneous seconds shaded by serendipity.
I am a life-giver, grower of people, young into old. Director of orchestra of days and of lives.
Yesterday, today and tomorrow will look new, because a lens of love was viewed through again. Bending light and life through the backside of a wide angle.
As a child of God, mouth and hands open wide. And turning it all to grateful poetic praise.
God I am as you have made. And I am sifting through it all, with grace.
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Joining Laura Boggess at Playdates at The Wellspring.
elizabeth w. marshall 
I am a listener seeing Life in pictures penned by poets, brushed by masters, but felt by me… traveling roads yet unseen but nevertheless real. … Thank you for being one of my guides.
Oh what gracious goodness is in your words. Humble thanks. So so glad you were here. Come back again. Love to have lovers of poetry on board. Your comment is a poem, a beautiful one indeed.
Attempting to pick a favorite metaphor here – too many. “Wanderer, slow walker, stumbler, mad-dasher…” All a rich and full photo. Attempting also, to catch up with missed posts – good to read your words again, be inspired and “graced” by them. Thank you!
Ahh, the heart of a child with a woman’s wisdom. Beautiful post. Thank you for sharing.
Yes, yes, yes! What fun to read these proclamations. All these facets of you and, as Nancy above said, in the heart of a child with a woman’s wisdom. So many great lines, but I love this one particularly: “Singing and lighting the candles of celebration. One wick at a splendid time.” What joy.
This is just gorgeous and it opens up the beauty-seeker in me. I’m plucking all these lovely words, putting them in my basket and tucking them away for a rainy day. Thank you, Elizabeth, for this breath of beauty!