My girls need me.
They need me to pay attention, soothe, be steadfast.
But I am erratic.
My attention is scattered in piles like fallen leaves in the autumn.
Cayenne crimson, turmeric orange, ginger yellow.
The colors of my temper, spicy like the evil twin
who lives somewhere in my head not heart.
The earth spins and the leaves die and
emotions run like wild horses and
no one can control any of it.
I see it in my daughter.
Four years-old with emotions loud as a train wreck.
She opens up her heart when its bursting and
spills her frustrations all over the universe.
Like fallen leaves in the autumn.
More than I am angry I am glad
She expresses herself with the freedom of a person who is safe.
Wild horses do not thrive in cages or in crowds.
But in wide open spaces
our emotions have room to dance and turn
an ever-shifting kaleidoscope
its beauty a product of all the colors.