Lea Ann Paradise

Published: July 29th, 2015

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Lea Ann Paradise studied for seven years with a process writing teacher who believed in integrating all artistic endeavors. She has studied with Carol Bly, Sharon DuBiago and Patricia Hampl in the University of Minnesota Split Rock Arts program.  Two of her pieces are published in the book - I Need Your Love, Is That True?   She has also written extensively in business writing documents, manuals, and proposals. Her published children’s book, which she wrote and illustrated titled - I Love You When…, can be found on Amazon. She lives in Victoria, Minnesota where she has a counseling practice.

We Listen for Other Endings...

When people file in and choose
a wooden church pew.

And the grey casket is holding
court in the sanctuary.

And we hear the soft sound
of a whimper then a sob.

And the minister speaks words of a
life well lived and well loved.

And the perfumes and colognes
fraternize with the dust of hymnals.

And the light of many colors
speckles the nave from domed panes.

And we follow the casket as it’s borne by men
who place it to rest behind fellowship hall.

Where silence pervades the wind
as we listen for other endings.

Rain Softly

A welcome rain
from who knows where,
to flowers, weeds, trees
slurping.
Gentle drops upon
grey wood balcony.
Its purple wave petunias, yellow-red marigolds
and moss-speckled umbrella,
tipping slightly.
Dust bursts and melts away.
Cool air
slips in through the screen.
This tender
pit, pat, drip.
Summer leaves, lime and mint
dip, flutter, then sway
like old people on the dance floor.
Recycled moisture, makes its way
to parched grass.
Emerald, tawny, and cherry flyers,
laugh and dive in misty pear-toned air,
their chirpy songs
in this little rain.
While children across the pond
high-pitched voices and mirth,
dance in the watery day.
All freely given
doing what it can only do
after all.
Rain cannot withhold itself
cannot say you don’t deserve this.
It tumbles and spills,
with no tick boxes
of what it’s done for any
recipient.
Isn’t the best art this way?
Or parenting?
Or friends?
When the heart opens wide,
and rivulets of
love
drip everywhere.