BIG STUMP GROVE
On top of this stump, I am so tiny.
Shivering again in the dark,
I knew. I planned, even there–my body
sick as it was–tensile as ice forming
on some January swamp:
half muck/
half network
of delicate threads threatening
to break and messily reform again
under some pressure.
So I willed, this time,
to collect it all into a plastic bag.
Kept it between my legs the entire time.
Willed the energy up once more
to pack it all away.
Today he asked for hide and seek—
eyes squeezed shut, a slow count
to twenty. Equal squeals at finding
and being found eased my tired
eyes open—the smile-brightened
face my day’s candy.
From the raging waves of the mighty oceans and the seven seas,
to the white caps on the deep and ancient lakes,
and the ripples on hiden ponds.
I come upon a still and shallow puddle,
bow down and see my reflection.
And within the molecules of the water,
an essence whispers,
you are much more than the image you perceive ,
and who and what you believe yourself to be.
MUCH MUCH MORE.
I see
Wildflowers in the field
Yellow, blue, and red
Bees, Hummingbirds and butterflies
Yellow, blue, and red
Wildflowers in the field
I see
There used to be Mullein at the top
of the hill by the golf course on North Elm,
tall, proud stalks, yellow flowers,
but now gone, city clearing hillside
wth giraffe-necked equipment.
Now I search and search for old
remedy, not by road, not by tracks,
not sprayed, just clean fuzzy leaves
to smoke or brew into tea.
picking wildflowers to put in a vase
while the sun is shining on my face
little ladybug crawling on my hand
always writing my name in sand
chasing butterflies landing on flowers
looking for rocks in the creek for hours
unicorns and rainbows all the day long
dancing barefoot in my garden to a favorite song
no matter your age you can love what you like
and anyone who doesnt agree can take a hike
I will miss it come tomorrow
the time I would’ve taken to be queiet to let the words seep in around the busy brain
but no right now I can’t do it won’t do it the letters pop in and ask for attention but no!
the pull of tasks and ticking of boxes too much
the dogs with ears peaked and tongues lolling asking for no time!
to be still to allow space to flow
they keen only for a step outside
for a soak of sun a touch of that breeze
a taste of grass and maybe a sneak of a pick yum raspberries
and yes! there’s a chase of squirrels and
oh!
tick boxes get tasks completed
there is no time for a poem today
