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.

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