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“Arising there, a china cabinet, its gifts enclosed in a hug.
Atop a pedestal table, hand-sanded and love-stained,
Mom's Christmas cactus trails and cascades in forest greens
awaiting pink-winged petals alighting in season, a crescendo of bloom framed an autumn-light meandering through remembrance like a dream.”
― Christina M. Ward, organic

“Golden framed and heavy, the painting.
Ocean waves curled in suspended time,
white-lipped and silent beneath brush-stroked blues
of sky. Gulls are captured there, mid-flight, fishing moments stolen in time, they soar without moving.”
― Christina M. Ward, organic

“I do not want to live
in a world without butterflies.
A place where they only exist
in oil on canvas or silver trinkets on a chain,
in language, legends we pass to the next
generation of memory-keepers,
a place where tiny ghosts have painted wings.”
― Christina M. Ward, organic

“paint the pony I will ride
soft hues that gather childhood
and thrust forward, to nowhere

back again, we turn
to plunking calliope tune
loud, round notes, we lift higher

hollowed ponies with painted ribbons
between our thighs,
laughter in her eyes

-- from 'Paint the Dancing Pony' (a poem)”
― Christina M. Ward, organic

“The memories of some
pass by, pale shadows
with laughter-- songs I remember.

-- Letter-Back Chairs (a poem)”
― Christina M. Ward, organic

“Mamaw's spirit lingers there, her high-bubbled laugh
carrying on like a song, her quiet dignity still holding
together the air that holds up this house.”
― Christina M. Ward, organic

“Nestled... In the dappled Spring sunlight
peeking through oaks, maples, and Tulip poplar
is a country house with pale-yellow siding.
Across a corner of the weathered,
wooden-slatted front porch, a vine lazily
stretches to find a spot in the sun.”
― Christina M. Ward, organic

“Ready, the boy climbs the ladder,
makes his way to the edge
and full of faith-- he leaps--
expecting flight,
finding hot tears
in a red cape
that doesn't work.”
― Christina M. Ward, organic

“Butterflies and moths
to the flame
--- and we are the flame”
― Christina M. Ward, organic

“I do not want to live
in a world without butterflies.
Without the intricate eyes and velvety wings,
graceful splashes of color dancing on the breeze.
Airy, delicate keepers of hope.
Metamorphic symbols of change, growth, maturation.

... I do not want this world
without the butterflies.
I could not bear the wailing
of flowers.

--from 'A World Without Butterflies' (a poem)”
― Christina M. Ward, organic