Blue lake, deep as my sadness, You know my promise, my best kept secret, my soul… Dark lake, still as my prayers, the ones I only whisper when lights are slowly drowning into you…

White light, where can I find him? It’s cold and dry the land beneath it… It’s lonely like my heart that misses the waters.. My blue lake - just a remembrance of love that seems forever but dies under the cruel sun…

And if a million eyes would cry a thousand rivers, would you rise up again? To feed our hungry hearts with reasons to love… against all odds I’ll turn my pain into poetry.

The Red, orange, yellow leaves Crunch under my bare feet The autumn glow shines on the tree bark The call of a distant lark And then I feel something squish below A brown sticky substance on my feet does it go What is that? I wonder aloud It’s a pile of squirrel poop, large and round It came out of a squirrel’s bottom Yucky, smelly, stinky, and rotten And now I am stuck with it on my foot but you know what? I don’t mind it so much down on my feet It feels kind of nice in the early fall heat It protects me from poking sticks and twigs It makes me smell like pigs Which I like. I love that I smell like squirrel poop I love that I smell like a chicken coop I love the poop so darn much And I think I will now eat it for lunch.

Dear Moon,

Let me offer you a covenant that you’ll be the last thing I see as I take my dying breath. If you agree, will you promise to shine a bit brighter as I bathe under your calming light? The sun is a constant that people rave about but you, my love, are neglected. They speak of the stars that shine in the sky beside you but never do they reach for your serene touch as I do.

When I am down, I look to you, oh my beautiful majestic moon, as you reign over me with your peaceful aura, and I hide from my fragile torturous mind. Dreams deter me from your virtuous view, as I slumber lost to you.

If only I could wear a crown of stars as I fly to you. Yes, then we could dance all night before the sun brings me gloom.

How I wish to be with you! My breathtaking magnificent moon! I dread the daylight. I loathe the clouds who hide you on some nights, leaving me despaired and lonely. I’ll be your ocean in tide, my dear moon, but my love for you will never wash up on shore.

So, please! Please! Don't let me be lost at sea, please, oh moon, hear my plea!

Forever yours, Abigail.

Dear Nature,

You’re in the middle of transforming again and I guess I am too. You’re always changing though.

I’m not sure I’ve ever told you, but you’re one of my closest friends on this earth. What we share is something truly remarkable. You’re like me - in an ever-changing state. You’re always changing and if I’m not careful, I might just miss it.

I don’t think I’ve ever properly thanked you though. I’ve never thanked you for helping to take care of me. You’ve helped nurture me through the hardest times of my life. The way your warmth dries my tears to my cheeks, it’s as if you’re right there beside me, wiping them away.

Growing up, I used to fear change. Change meant something unknown was coming, and that frightened me. I used to sit by the window, watching the last of your yellow and orange leaves float onto the grass, wishing that you didn’t have to cover my world in a blanket of white. My pleas seemed to go unanswered by you and that made me both angry and scared.

It was alright in the end though. The frosty chill in the air brought about new opportunities that I wouldn’t have received, had you not had to change. You’ve taught me that it’s alright to let go. That it’s alright to let go of that which does not serve me, or bring me peace. It’s alright to dive into the unknown. You’ve taught me that letting go is a sign of strength. I look up to you for that, because sometimes I can’t be strong all the time. Sometimes I just need you to listen to me. When I go outside and sit with you, discussing my troubles and you just listen, you make me feel grounded.

Sometimes I just need to release everything I’m feeling. Sometimes it correlates exactly when you drown the air in millions of rain droplets. Sometimes I go out and stand under your stream, until I can’t tell what were my tears and what’s your rain.

I’m not afraid to ask you for help - you’ve never made me feel less than for it. You’re one of the best listeners I know, so I know I can always trust that you’ll guide me towards the best decision.

You come through for me, listening to my favors. Whether it be a quiet whisper after a silent cry, or I’m screaming into the woods where I know my voice will ricochet off of every tree, I call out for your help. It might take you some time, but I see the signs you send me each time.

You’ve never stopped loving me. You were there to hold me when I broke into a million pieces in the grass, begging you not to take those I loved away from me. But you were also there to support me when I fell onto you again, dizzy and happily in love. In an ever-changing world, I’ve grown to understand and love your stable instability.

Nature, there’s so much of you to love. You’re in the giant pines that line the trail that I walk, you’re in the flowing reeds that encompass the still water that house nature’s tiniest creatures. You’re in every sunset I see each night. You’re embedded in the moist dirt between my toes after a long rain shower. You’re attached to my cheeks in a rosy hue after falling onto your white blanket, laughing and remembering what it felt like to be young again.

Thank you nature, for your everlasting unconditional love.

His Royal Highness Heir Apparent Prince Camryn House of Mermes Mother House of DeepWater

Cam, I said I would write. And I have so there.

Most Sincerely Jannixa Jellcanz Strudgenhaus Professor of Applied Mathematics, penultimate Lead Chair, Trades & Strategy Also known as Janx

Post script Your third letter just arrived. You made me late to class and my assistant had to begin without me. Me, late. They thought I had died. Three letters, Cam. Three letters, long letters, filled with your poems and thoughts. I warm myself in the fire from your words. If you were here in my homeland I would take you to my favorite place the eighth bow window of the Lynnx Archival Library when the light is highest and the window’s stained glass paints the darkened shelves of finely crafted cartography journals and forgotten carved globes. I would take you to this library and make you my new favorite place. But you are two days ride through the Dark Forest away from me. And you have asked me to tell you my feelings. I could project potential grain shortages during to predicted droughts in the Westlands down to a half bushel but I cannot make pretty words. I’m not a court lady. I’ve never batted my eyelashes in my life. I know you have heard stories about me. I am not ashamed or wanton. I don’t hide or lie. I have never felt so happy unhappy unsettled and at peace. My council sent me to be your trial bride because of my sharp eye and my abacus heart. I don’t know how to say I love you Cam.

Post post script I can say I love the sea. My whole life I have read books. I have studied maps and illustrations but visiting Merryn was the first time I ever experienced an ocean. The crashing sounds made my knees weak. I was mesmerized. I’d studied fishing yields and lunar cycles. Interviewed your fishers and fish markets like a good little statistician. All the while I was falling uncontrollably into the grey, blue, brown, and green of the your sea. I was afraid of its storms and lulled by its waves. You know I stole one of your shirts, dear husband. One of the holey ones you would wear to fish on the beach before daybreak before you put on your fancy clothes and handle disputes and manage your landholdings. I hid it right in my knitting basket. Now your lovely letters live wrapped in your shirt in the drawer with my nightgowns. It smells of sea spray and night time. Each evening I dream of sea spray. I can say I love the sea. You are the sea. Janx Also known as your Janx

My love,

I love you.

Isn’t this how I’m expected to start, with some dramatic declaration of love? But to say those words, those three words seems to simple. They seem wrong, they seem … almost easy. But love isn’t supposed to be easy, it’s not supposed to be simple. It’s supposed to be warm and comforting, troublesome and traumatic, filled with the potholes of life that come along and take one by surprise.

And yet, still, the words that come to my lips are ‘I love you’.

You are passionate and fierce, destructive and terrifying, you are soft and gentle and so many other things in between. You are the calm in my soul and the storm in my heart and the love that carries me on.

The soft babbling of the brook as you run through the forest, the tormenting cascade that thunders down the mountain path. The rushing water that calls to me as I sleep, bubbling and chasing and calling and roaring as you chase away my fears, wrapping me in that warm comforting cocoon.

You are my love, my heart and my soul. You are the light in my darkness, the peace in my rage. You are my everything when I feel nothing.

And, without you I am lost. Without you, I am alone. Without you, I am empty.

Without you, I have lost the serenity of the moments that we have shared together.

Without you, I have lost the tenderness of your caress as you wash over my feet, my hands, my body.

Without you, I fear that I am nothing.

My love for you is endless. My soul yearns for you, how it cries out for you during those times when I cannot hear you, or be near you. How it urges me to listen for the sounds of your rushing, crashing, babbling tones and how my soul seems destined to starve off sleep when you are not around.

I love you, my peace, my tranquility, my muse, my passion and my life’s blood. I love you, and you alone who makes me crave and want and desire you.

And yet it is not enough. Three words, three meaningless words that fall off my lips whenever I am close to you, whenever I feel you, whenever I hear you … they are not enough.

They are not enough when I long for the sense of the cold flecks of the cascades as they come crashing down. They are not enough when I long to feel you fill my heart, my soul and to fill me with a tranquility that I long for.

I love you, my river and I count the days and hours and minutes and seconds until we are, once again together.

Clara

My old friend mister evergreen You stand so mighty and strong The shadows you cast down on me Reach out so far and long Under your robust arms of pine I can find shelter from the heat Your trunk provides my back support And your needles work great as a seat While under your cool, calm shadow My poet thoughts are set free Although there May be hundreds like you Your are my favorite pine tree

         𝕊𝕋𝔼ℙℍ𝔼ℕ☮️

Darkness gets a bad reputation, and sunlight is undeservedly praised. But you - the soothing shadow of a tree - to you I give my praise. You are a comfort, an escape, a refuge from the summer heat, a hiding place from predators. I know that I can turn to you, and for that, I appreciate you. I know that you can never be destroyed, and for that, I admire you. I know that you will hold me, and for that, I adore you.

Dear clouds, the way you float around Makes the wind a magical sound Your curvaceous poofs Are so big at noon And the sun makes everything golden Without it we would be the cold ones The trees rock from side to side It’s where all the birds hide The birds sing till it’s time to fly away Where it’s warm, it’s miles away But soon they’ll return And we’ll no longer yearn For their sweet melodies Which decorate the trees

Oh how I adore you, my willow tree.

Rooted firmly in the ground, never ceasing to stand tall. With your arms, long and graceful, reaching out as far as possible. Creating a shelter of shade beneath your leaves.

Your strong branches hold a rope swing that goes higher than any playground swing could. Your weak branches serve as crowns when we rip them off and tie them in circles to place gently on our heads.

And when fall arrives to steal your leaves, oh my dear I’ll still adore you. For your branches dressed in snow are the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. Graceful and delicate, your branches sway in the winter winds, creating a sight more majestic than any man-made thing.

Oh how I adore you, my sweet willow tree. May you never forget everything that you mean to me.