pieces of me

by Cate Love


she wore her age like a mountain at dusk cloaked in rich colors and fine fabrics

enchanting all

one day her color bled into a drab brown mood so she charged her inner grizzly

and slept under the stars

when she awoke she found her hair had turned all white

it was long and when she shook out her braids

men grasped to hang on

free she fairly burst with love

love dripped from her eyelashes blinding the mean little creatures

turning them to toadstools

she closed her eyes softly then and frog song lifted dancing, sliding, running, jumping, skipping, dreamscapes to her ears

all without lifting even an eyebrow to the deep bluegreen

of fancy


Cate Love wasn’t born in the Roaring Fork valley, but she’s a lifer. She treats writing like a surprise visit from the fairy godmother: zip into that ball gown, slip on those fancy glass slippers and boogie on up the palace steps. Carefully. One at a time.

One thought on “pieces of me

  • January 17, 2020 at 10:01 pm

    Cate this is beautiful and flowing…………


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