Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
I, being, poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

I love this poem from Irish poet, W.B. Yeats. It is about as far as you can get from the crowded Hallmark aisle at the CVS store on route 119–a place which is undoubtedly packed today, and tomorrow, with people hoping to find a card that explains their own one true love. Nothing really explains our own true love except for the fact that we show up, day after day with mindfulness and openness. I admit I’ve resorted to the card aisle when I’ve allowed myself to be too rushed by life. What I really like to do? Get out scissors, glue, pens, brushes, paint, sparkle, ribbon, clips and snips of brightness and make a valentine to my love.

Whatever is in the house works. A photo, leftover red ribbon from the holidays, even a splattering of glitter nail polish. I keep blank cards but you can grab blanks at an office supply store or go really deluxe at the delightful Paper Source stores. Once you get into it, the six-year-old takes over.  So does the spirit of courtship days. Before ice dams on the roof was a topic for late night conversation.  Before figuring out who will pick up the takeout from Spice Pepper.  Before sharing the odd intimacy of vacuuming and running the rug cleaner. When you start thinking about what you will write on the inside of the card, you’re courting again. Ahhh. If you get writer’s block, borrow from the poets. Or go simple with big blocky I LOVE YOU (translated into I <heart> YOU.

Love is then in the air. We can spread our dreams before the one we love.  Can champagne and candlelight be far off?

When is the last time you made a valentine?