Spit mixed with dirt – Muddy words flow
“This is who I am.” The words rise, though I am alone. I’m not perfect or beautiful or young: “This is me, accept me or reject me.” (Please, love me.) Some minutes later, I park, stumble gracelessly out of the car, hopelessly in love, nervously shrugging the words I had minutes before spoken aloud, and then I fall into your arms and find peace, home. (Please, oh god, please love me.) I think I play it cool, but inside oh how I want to kiss your neck, standing there by the river. Time slows. The wind tosses my hair everywhere. My skirt teases up, whips my knees. The air is fresh and warm. The grass, the leaves impossibly green. The water drifts lazily while the geese waddle by, ignoring us, our quiet conversation. You point out several landmarks and their significance. I remember you telling me about them, sending me photos. Now I see them in real life, with you. I just want to stay near you, from this moment on. My body, now imprinted by the memory of your arms around me, wonders: how to get closer? I can smell you, where my face had pressed to your chest. I wonder if you are half as affected by me as I you. I scoot everso slightly closer to you. Wanting to invade your space. Wanting you back in mine. Wanting your arms around me again. Our bodies pressed together. Our energies intermingling. Wanting to kiss you. For all my senses to be filled by you. Wanting all this and more and somehow at the same time filled with peace. Either you will accept me, or you won’t. Either you will love me or you will walk away. From me, with my flaws and fading youth and sad eyes. Me, with a heart full of love and grace. Me, loving only you.
As I drive away some days later, the skies having opened that morning, overdue rain now drumming the windshield, watering the parched fields, “How am I going to carry on without you now? Now that I’ve had you? Without a heart in my chest?” I wonder who will cry more: me, or the clouds. (I’m betting it’s me.) Tears run down my face. Drip-drip-dripping from my chin. “I love you,” I say inside an empty car. “Please don’t forget me,” I whisper to the passing landscape, hoping somehow my words will find you, in spite of the growing distance between us. But this I now know: you do love me. And I you.
tara caribou | ©️2025 photo by me
The morning sky, lightening from black to midnight blue, blue to lavender, and then pink on the impossibly far-off horizon. My first glimpses of a new future. I pass through a wall of peace as I cross the county line. This is what home feels like. My heart, open to budding love and altogether something new, sings in my chest. You almost make me believe in love at first sight. But it was before that, wasn’t it? When I first felt the inner you: the stirrings of real peace and enduring devotion. You say you’re nothing but I say you are everything I could ever desire.
The pink on the horizon lifts to a subtler shade, becoming more orange which I know will shift to the bright white of morning sun. It is as if it is morning in my soul as well. Is this a dream? Have I really found a home after all these years of searching and then giving up? Could I truly find a place to rest, and then upon this newfound tranquility, to grow? I believe I have.
tara caribou | ©️2025 photo by me
In the sacred grove lay secrets from the past for the future
Touching the grey furrowed bark of a grandfather oak, I listen
Be in the now, it’s all you have, this moment here, you and I
I weep for all the could-be’s and should-have-been’s
Wasted moments
I weep for the spread of dull apathy
A bridge rests quietly amongst the aged sentinels
It spans not water but history itself
A remembrance of by-gone days
Those of community, well-being, personal pride, hard work, and temperance
Crossing over allows me that glimpse, new possibilities cover my eyes
Oh grandfather!
What have you been witness to!
Teach me, I am listening!
Let us share a meal, soak in the warmth of the sun, wind caressing our skin
Let us talk and laugh and listen and lean in closer, shoulders bumping
Together we stretch time, negating its power
Glancing over, I fall deeper in love
Branches sway, leaves twist and rest, every direction I look is peace and joy
Uncertainty melts little by little
You have brought new life to my heart
Teach me more, I will listen!
Perhaps there are no secrets for the future
Perhaps all we truly have, is here
tara caribou | ©️2025 photos by me

Supreme peace and love fill my heart as I listen to dozens of birds warble and chirp and squawk and honk
A special place, an island across a marsh, aged trees stand tall, some leaning with old age, aching for the changes they’ve seen
Light and shadow dapple the forest floor, green leaves allowing drops of sunshine through, here, there
A man whistles to his hound, his neck burdened by a huge camera, stares up at the branches, the ground, the dog, up again
I wonder what he’s come here for, perhaps he too seeks the forgiveness and acceptance found on the isle
The trail weaves with the land, unobtrusive, drawing you further in, a squirrel bounds along ahead, inviting me to follow
And I do
Rising above the lake, a platform waits, a narrow view of a wide world, framed by twisted branches and flitting feathered travelers, I spot yellow wings, some black with red spots, unassuming greys and browns
Below, in the young cattails, a splash and a plunk, a frog? a turtle? perhaps a muskrat, I scan for herons but see none, though the geese are plenty, where do they all go in such a hurry, here to there?
It’s quiet, except for the birds, occasionally our conversation, and I’m grateful and filled with peace, yet I feel a longing grow within, a space yawning open, infilling with possibility
A short walk through a dropped walnut trail leads to a dock, on which I sit and share a sandwich, some for me, some for the birds and fish, no takers
Bubbles rise and I know the sign of a turtle resting on the lakeshore floor, how long has he sat there sleeping? dreaming? Is this a dream, I wonder, I hear the words: I’m real, this is happening
The sun warms my back, my shoulders, my hair, I can’t imagine a more perfect moment, my devotion and tenderness growing, almost to bursting in my chest, healing me from the inside out, I wonder about acceptance and the balm of love
I consider the geese, one chasing off a rival before returning to comfort his mate, the bond renewed, I understand that bond, and sharing this space is a bond of its own
In my mind I form oaths and hope one day you’ll understand and hold them precious
Our quiet conversation drifts in and out, sometimes the breeze says it all, others it’s the birds or you or I, that you’ve shared this space with me speaks volumes and I am grateful, I can’t imagine being here with anyone else
I sigh, but it’s a good sigh, one of contentment and hope and healing
tara caribou | ©️2025 | photo by me
I just got back from a trip to Iowa and my heart is full of gratitude, love, and new experiences.
If you let me, I’ll spread wide
Let you bury yourself deep inside
And my voice croons
Let yourself go, free yourself now
Together, we’ll go higher than
Either of us thought was possible
Because, babe, it’s me and you
And together we’re stronger than
Either of us thought was possible
So dip down in, taste my fire
Swallow me whole and we’ll begin again
(Insatiable) flames on flames (on flames)
And if you let me, I’ll hold you close
Let your essence absorb
With my song crying,
Just let yourself go, you can free yourself now
Together, we’ll go higher than
Either of us thought was possible
If you let us, we’ll fly higher than
Either of us thought was possible
If only you’d let yourself go
©️ tara caribou | 2025
Raw Earth Ink is proud to present Kelley Morris’ re-released collection of poetry, When the Glass Breaks.

From the back: Kelley Morris writes poetry in a way some people breathe. She composes in a natural language, one where the reader come to inhabit her gentle world of living. This is the kind of poetry capable of raising you up, bestowing hopefulness, and adding beauty to a plain day. Employing artful, yet unpretentious language which is expansive but still familiar, we find a place where we discover a piece of ourselves in her acute observations, creating a shared melody of existence.
Kelley’s poetry contains the raw timber of what it means to build up and truly BE in this world. Tenderly evoking emotions in a real, raw-faced way, this collection lingers long after reading, as we grow, change, and transform.




In paperback at: Lulu, Barnes & Noble, or Amazon.
As eBook at: Kindle.
Leave a review on Goodreads.
©️2025 | Kelley Morris
Kelley Morris can be found on Instagram @kmariemorris and her website Piano Girl.
Host of the In Three Poems Podcast
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Photography and Visual Art by Adam Shurte
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the wild life
Our lives are the words of this book
Our story made the last page of the newspaper. Witnesses said they'd seen a "madwoman with two paint-bombs suddenly appear."
Art, random musings and the occasional inflammatory viewpoint of autistic artist Christopher Hoggins