Posts for June 5, 2025 (page 2)

                                                                                                    night sky
                                                                                                            waxing
                                                                                                                crescent
                                                                                                                    moon
                                                                                                                      perhaps
                                                                                                                    i will
                                                                                                                  really
                                                                                                               begin
                                                                                                           this 
                                                                                                    time

Honeysuckle blooms and wild white daisies.
Benign, but greedy, vines.
Remind me, what does poison ivy look like?
A soiled plastic bottle
in the middle of a glen.
I could see myself lying on the ground here,
finding the sky between the leaves
and wondering at the meaning of life.
Remember, the answer is always C. 

I’d like to climb the tree over yonder.
I’ll settle for a free throw in the net.
Dodge the trio of jagged green,
Shaq-branded ball in hand.
We are out of the woods.

I’m aware of that.
But it doesn’t feel right without them.
Those two familiar voices will not be calling my name tonight
There will be no fries stolen,
no quips I’ve invented
exchanged through small business booths

I’m aware,
yet something is starting to die.
Last week we left high school, finally free.
But there are only two Teen Howls left,
before I will be four hours away from
our monthly tradition of poetry and Tolly Ho grilled cheese.
8  hours for Ryan,
for Eva, 3.

I am daughter, sister, cousin
                       niece, aunt
I have long been mother, teacher,
                       caregiver, friend 
I was wife life times ago

Always I will be mother. 

6/5/25
KW

                   This morning

        I will write a poem–    
        not about the challenges
        of my house–my daily toils.

        There is one thistle poem
        I need to write about, challenges
        for future fescue hay rolls.
——–
        It has one bloom, magnificant,
        but I will destroy it today
        before its seeds, white fluff,
——–
        mature, wind blown, indignant
        to the poem’s protest, as is its way,
        better suited for Mikinos’ tough

I Bleed Blue.
Kentucky girl, 
through n through.
a southern hint
when I’m pissed.
I like basketball
and barbecue.
pour sugar in tea
until Jesus tells me.
I Bleed Blue.
curse traffic daily on
gosh dang new circle.
my love for quilting
is practically genetic.
bake pies till midnight
with butter for days.
seems I’m homesick
just crossing to Cincy.
Cause I Bleed Blue.

Let moss whisper

a flood of stories

long forgotten—

murmured not in words

but in velvet hush

on the surface of stone.

She speaks slow,

syllables green and damp.

She has no teeth

but grips

what we drop—

names, bones,

the seeds of prayers

never spoken aloud.

She covered the boots

of a man lost in thought.

She kissed the back step

of a house swallowed whole.

She grows on old pews

in chapels the vines

gave last rites.

She remembers

what we meant

when we first sang.

She holds lullabies

no mother recalls.

If you kneel close—

closer—

she will tell you

how the mountain learned silence,

how deadwood still dreams

of leaf.

She is the psalm

before paper,

the balm

before wound.

Let moss have

the last word.

She will not shout.

She will not forget.

Eggs