If you judge people, you have no
time to love them.


Open your heart
else you will have no room to love
and no time to find the room.

For time is not the thing
that fills the sky with blue
nor does it extend that room eternally
backwards through the heart.

That kind of space only opens up
on setting aside measuring tools,
paint cans, decorating supplies
and other weapons
distracting attention away
from the better self
pining boxed and bound inside.

Upon surrendering,
a light switches on.
Walls shatter

baring shared flesh merging
your hand grasping mine
beneath the blood red orange of the setting sun.

Afterward, we walk,
a chill still occasionally crossing
between us on the snow cooled breeze
flitting fingers over skin.
Our boots crunch.
Rushing sounds of faraway cars
merge as trucks downshift into rumble mode.
In the quiet, stillness shivers.
And in the midst,
a woodpecker’s sudden rat-a-tat tat
thunders us awake once more
aware of each other.

Together, we lift our eyes
as one to find reflected in our faces
simultaneous smiles opening
to the rising moon.


Fortune Cookie Poems Copyright © 2022 by Stephanie Mirocha. All Rights Reserved.