Tuesday, December 27, 2016

Tiny Poem Tuesday


Some people
find it soothing,
the grayness,
but I find it suffocating --
draining the world
of its variety and color
smudging the details
at the edges.

I crave light.

Once an opaque plane,
the ice on the
kitchen window transforms
into a thousand glittering
crystals, each one a
snowflake of
incomprehensible beauty,
captured on glass
to extend its fleeting
existence.

I crave light.

Once dark, abbreviated days
at year's end,
illuminated by
singing, bells, old
friendships renewed --
by a thousand
acts of glittering
kindness.

Not all grayness
Not all light
is surface: we allow one --
or the other --
to infuse, consume
become part of us,

I crave light.

Tuesday, December 13, 2016

Tiny Poem Tuesday

I found you again!
stretched out cozy
dark evenings, temperatures 
falling, radiators hissing
nature patiently prodding,
pushing us to ponder
(reflect) on this latest
rung in our life
spiral, as we spin
headlong into the
next layer.

Holiday busy-ness
fills each moment --
cards caroling crafts
concerts -- (deflect)ing
introspection.

The perennial rhythm --
hushed tones, muffled
palette, the cocoon of
muted light, remind us:
pause, plan,

pay attention.

Tuesday, November 29, 2016

Tiny Poem Tuesday

One November, when
I needed them most,
all of my words

bowed out. No way
to explain, no language
to make sense of

our surreal new reality;
leaving me with a body
waking in the predawn

light to lift weights and
sweat, guided by Mother
Moon to run and run

on soggy trails through
a dying landscape, and
yoga -- hoping to twist

the knots out of my
stomach and dislodge
the despair settling into

my lower right hip.

Am I preparing
for battle?

Tuesday, November 8, 2016

Tiny Poem Tuesday I and II

This is so scary
I think I'm going to throw up
It must be fiction


I wasn't worried
He has shown his true colors
Weren't they listening?

Tuesday, September 27, 2016

Tiny Poem Tuesday

For Nicole

The phrase "a heavy heart" 
never struck me before.
I feel it now.
The lowest chambers
of my heart sinking
into my gut,
the grief settling there
with a mournful melody.

It has been one week.

One week of being startled
over and over and over
by the (un)reality of her absence.
An absence that goes
beyond blankness
into the realm of void
and vacuum.

One week of memories
tripping and falling,
nipping at my heels:

Our daily song began first thing,
herding kids off to school,
five minutes stretching
to many hours
of gliding fluidly
from one yard to another
pushing a swing, catching a ball,
soothing a hurt, nursing a baby...
without missing a beat
without dropping a note.
The afternoon movement
a crescendo -- more kids,
homework, guarding the alley,
making dinner --
hers planned for the month
mine always a surprise.

She is still here in
the high frequency
of our duet --
joys, sorrows,
depths, shallows --
an eternal vibration.

Tuesday, September 20, 2016

Tiny Poem Tuesday

  • Ode to a Lovely Maple
  • Shifted light
    leaves me off - kilter
    out of balance

    Last night we dined
    "en plein air" as we do,
    unable to stop gazing up up up
    at the dizzying absence.

    Before they had finished
    chopping, chipping,
    my daughter and I
    ran to measure --
    our arms encircling
    her wide expanse --
    a farewell embrace.
    14 feet 2 inches!
    How long was she standing
    watching over this house
    so steadfastly?

    We first stepped inside
    one golden June afternoon,
    sunlight dancing and jumping
    in glittering patches
    across the wood floors.
    Through humid summers
    her vast canopy shielded us
    from the heat,
    keeping our rooms
    deliciously cool.
    Each October brought a burst
    of flame, bathing us all
    in shimmering yellow.
    She shook each last leaf
    to carpet the grass,
    benevolently brightening
    the months of darkness.

    Disoriented, I mourn
    my faithful friend
    in this new,
    alien space.

Tuesday, August 2, 2016

Tiny Poem Tuesday

A terribly ripe four year old
likes to ride his bike until
sundown, play the piano
in the early morning quiet,
and ask important questions
before breakfast:

Can I sleep on the pillow
with you? Is it boom de
yada time? Why do people
need belts? How many more
days until my birthday?
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