One November

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?

Election Night Haiku

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?

Into the Fire

Tonya -- my most esteemed yoga guru -- has asked me a few times if I would be willing to teach yoga for the Tuesday evening Grove Street neighborhood and I just don't feel ready  at all!  I have only done a few classes with my friends -- and even that was scary!  So I have repeatedly declined her kind invitation... But then today she texted me while we were at park day and said that they desperately needed a teacher for that night!  Oh, the horror!  I wanted to say no so badly, but I could tell that the Universe was gently, or not so gently, nudging me and giving me a chance to get my teaching hours toward my Bodhi Yoga certification.  It really is a great opportunity!  So I agreed and took the boys home a little early so that I could practice a bit and write some ideas down.  Oh my goodness!  My stomach hurt so much!  But I didn't die!  Tonya checked in with me later and assured me that they haven't lost a teacher yet!

For Nicole

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.

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.

It's Gone

I've been so sad for the four days it took to fell the magnificent maple. And oh, the carnage! The casualties noted so far: three forsythias, seven hydrangeas, three boxwoods, four rosebushes, too many hostas, ferns, daisies, and day lilies to count, the entire front lawn, a fence, one kitchen window, one majestic tree, and my hot hot house.

Our gorgeous tree is being taken down today -- thank you for your beauty, your hospitality to the birds and squirrels, cooling and shading our home and patio, and all of that oxygen! RIP, you will be missed.