by Trish Cozart

A soft pillow for a heavy head
A misty rain on a sunburnt face
A whisper in a loud world
A heaping bowl of abounding grace
Like a feather tickling my heart
Or a downhill ride that doesn’t end
A smile, a tear, a kick, a hug
Joyful respite— thank you, friend.

Theory of Relativity

by Trish Cozart

A theory based in fact
about people we love
about relativity —
how we interact.

A physicist knows
of space — length and time
the faster we move
the more it grows.

Time creates a moraine
we’ll miss even more
the distance now longer
the embrace — a strain.

We plant roots deep into land
yet speed like light, then wait
to see kindred strangers
we misunderstand.

The faster we remain
distance grows, time extends
but there is something
that doesn’t gain.


by Trish Cozart

After all these years
in times unending motion
my hidden thoughts for you
lost in the commotion.

And finally it broke
like a wave upon the ocean
the truth came flowing through
revealing your emotion.

But what a wondrous thing
when discovering that the notion
wasn’t just a dream
but a mutual devotion.

This was the start of an epic love story (still in progress). Reflecting on the night we realized we were meant to be more than friends.


by Trish Cozart

Cake baker
Bed maker
Cookie swiper
Tear wiper
Cheering section
Sweet affection
Back rubber
Bottom clubber
Card player
Allowance payer
Always there
Always care
Mom, it’s true
I love you.

I Am

by Trish Cozart

A silence untouched
a sliver string unbroken
a word unheard
and unspoken

A zephyr’s whisper
and silence echoes
vibrating vespers
from God

Ode to Kindergarten Teachers

by Trish Cozart

There are few in this world who look at a child
Who is not their own—
And see the soul inside

And fewer still who look at a child
Whose wings have not yet flown—
And find a sense of pride.

And fewer yet who will show a child
Who sometimes goes astray—
The power of a smile.

And fewer still who will give a child
Who has too much to say—
An ear to hear awhile.

And who will sing and dance and laugh
In a public space—
And never blush at all.

And who is the first to give away
Love’s warm embrace—
When trouble comes to call.

Who are these few, these saints from high
Who instruct life’s truth—
They’re dear and precious creatures.

Who are these few with qualities rare
That give their hearts to youth—
They’re kindergarten teachers.

This poem was written in 2000 and dedicated to my son’s kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Seibert. After an intense year, she was and continued to be a light in his darkness — a teacher that really cared about my son as a person. She saw in him what few could see.

Fuzzy Face

by Trish Cozart

A fuzzy face to cuddle and caress
Obedient companion—nothing less
My dog, my friend, my company
Means, oh, so much more to me
Than just another breed or race
Or just another fuzzy face