Posts for June 24, 2017


The Sounds of Summer

Splashing at the pool
Birthday wishes 
The ice cream man
Circling the block
Fireworks well after midnight 
Quarters clinking in pockets
Heavy metal and carnival rides
ATVs running up the fence line
Vacation Bible school 
Roadtrip games – calling out
License plates and I Spys 


Can We Pretend?

We have progressed from
“Lightening A-keen” and
the adventures of Baby Lion
to Knights and Aliens
Police Kittens 
Harry Potter’s Owl
A Squirrel Hotel
Battles and wizards
Building castles and spells
I try to stop reading,
turn off the radio, stay engaged;
I know the day is coming
when you won’t ask me again.


Overheard at the hair salon

The pain is a ten, but every time
I feel it I say, There’s that blue
five again. Sometimes it shoots
down my arm like a river
branching into my hand.

And my shoulder grates
like gravel. I can picture a plate
with holes in it, grinding
and catching as it moves.


Fractured Fragments

Fractured fragments, veil
perception of inception
phosphene dreams compel

Photograph with FujiFilm XPro2



Although I’m seated, now, I want to feel
long muscles in my legs stretch to spring
me forward. I want to move so quickly
that air cools my face. No fear of distance,
calculating both the journey and return.
I have appetite and courage in my heart.
Why can’t I climb the stairs?  

Lift the air conditioner, laundry, walk
the dogs? I desire world to lead me,
the flying mountains aching in my chest.
Even though I’ve always wanted rest,
I would accept that I might never get here,
wishing I could just embark. I’m standing
at the top of hills above my town, listening
to the wind’s unrest. The ocean beckons me.  

I’m itching for a voyage, my memories
behind me, pushing forward just as if
the world was round. I would reach for home
ahead of me, waiting only for Penelope,
relishing the memory of smooth floor
beneath my feet, windows full of promises,
standing in a doorway, feeling rain.  

Could these trees transport me? Let
the fireflies invite me out to dance.
With my grandson in my arms, I waltz
to show him sunshine traveling years
to touch him, to listen for its voice.
I want life as vivid as my dreams.


#FDDD3A ( 253, 221, 58)

the flight of a lone trepidation,
a warbler watching the inspection
of his home
swooping in with grub in tow
to nurture his offspring
unbeknownst to him
film lived for all the commonwealth–

why does he care,
come back to these beings
that he somehow knows are his?
does he
how does nature machinate
this feeling?
and why?


In the Quiet

Dead in the water
Not another boat in sight
Has everyone gone?

God is there with us
In the stillness, He whisperss
Listen to His voice


Too Much Happens

A poem is small
And life insists on largeness.
My meta-excuse.


Ya know?

It’s not the passion that I miss
just the person
ya know?
The boy next to me on the couch
the kid I hang out with
when no one else cares to.
And maybe that’s wrong
I miss the good stuff for me
but not always the us.
It was just so easy
ya know?


A Woman’s Work

When we found a groundhog corpse in the lawn
my husband went pale, sickly green
so I threw on my dirtiest clothes
and went to do the burying myself.

In the sunset,
as I lifted the black, stinking mass on my shovel,
a man on a motorcycle stopped
and told me how me admired
my slim waist
and the lush curves of my ass
(though not in such kind words, of course).

I appreciated the feeling of being stronger
than two men
as I laid the body in the grave
and told the man he best ride on
before he, too,
ended up six feet deep in my yard.