Stepping Out

Stepping Out

 

Two

Like children

Who put away

Some childish thing

 

Found

Their lost treasure

Untarnished

 

On

Wood slick floor

Lights revolving

 

Followed

More than footing

Dancing through

 

Discovered

Love beyond

Holding,

     Letting go

Read Full Post »

Preparing to Departing the Doctor’s Office

Preparing to Departing the Doctor’s Office

He was saying he was sorry
the evaluation of her husband
had revealed so little left, except
this ability to copy.

She sat, ankles uncrossed,
legs parallel, spine straight,
high-heels pressed hard
against the pine-plank floor.

            Her world shifted as she

            re-calculated, prepared to move

            away with this single word intact,

            the one he deemed so deficient,
            The vibration of this single word

            going on and on, magnifying

            this one skill that might

            restore sufficiency
            They had a long journey ahead
            after the surgery and stroke
            stripped language from their air
            made comprehension
            a challenging charade.

The doctor continued to repeat,
“I’m sorry,” as she pushed back
her chair, stood to shake
his failure free.

            To the rhythm of her heels’ clicking
            she began her counting mantra,

                        one – bookkeeping is copying,

                                    two – an accountant can begin again

                        one, bookkeeping is copying,

                                    two, an accountant can…

Read Full Post »

Journey of Days: a cinquain chain

Journey of Days

Dawn

Even
at an early
age, I knew better than
to tell a lie or try to hide
from light

Midday

As Mom
delivering
instruction to her girls
who listened more the less she says
insight

Twilight

Oma
writes now,
weaving wisps of story
into the fabric of spun dreams

for night

 

Day Break

Breakfast
together, still,

hand and hand, silent smiles

sufficient illumination

 today

 

Read Full Post »

Dreamy Solace

 

In the back woods of the sleepy bed

where silk sheeted solace waits unborn

downed pillows dream uncovered, bemoan

their paired duality and doubled monotone.

There is a trace of place some say was lent

in the back woods of the sleepy dream

where what was lent, unbidden, waits unborn

downed pillows dozily dream uncovered. Sewn

in paired duality and doubled rhythmic monotone,

there etches sketch images and magic merges.

Succor finds provision in this wooded place

where sustenance at rest, presses into day.
Dozy places trace themselves, some say,

to expose the wonder in the power sought

of time beyond the day, weary years, thin

woven silk spun lengths of lightness spread,
weathered wooden sleepers under stress

traced place erased, makes space
feathers falling weightless, flow

all alone, no wind needed to carry
Through velvet dreaming smoothing out

entanglements of thought once caught

snagged and lost in spite of what was sought

until weariness won relief in down drenched

dreams, restoring in and through the core
As snores ascend the ache of place and trace
a new beat multiplier harmonizes time

unifies and uncovers what has grown

loan satisfied, owners living comfort dream

duality, sleep on beside the other.

Read Full Post »

Astonished at the Egg Hunt

Astonished at the Egg Hunt

 

at her childcare center,

beyond the expanse of open windows,

the children scoured the rolling lawn

where Moms and big sisters

followed

intent on helping their little ones

find the hidden colors,

gather the most eggs.

 

I remember how she

took each egg we uncovered,

ran to her friends –

one and then another –

offering them her eggs,

smiling as their baskets filled.

Read Full Post »

Before Departing the Doctor’s Office (years ago now)

Before Departing the Doctor’s Office

I sat, ankles uncrossed
legs parallel, back straight
high-heels pressed hard
against the pine-plank floor.

I wasn’t moving yet
only calculating my direction
preparing to move out
away with the hopeless word
he thought was so deficient

He was saying he was sorry
the evaluation of my husband
had revealed so little left, except
this ability to copy.

But I had heard the word
copy, repeated copy to myself
imagined that skill might
restore sufficiency.

We had a long journey ahead
after surgery and stroke
stripped language from our air
made comprehension
a challenging charade.

The doctor continued to repeat,
“I’m sorry,” as I pushed back
my chair, stood to shake
his failure free from me.

To the rhythm of my heels clicking
I began my whispered mantra
bookkeeping is copying
an accountant can begin again
bookkeeping is copying…

Read Full Post »

Returning from a Visit to Family

Returning from a Visit to Family

Trucks passing fast
wind whistle horns
hurrying slowness
disturbing dreams.

Miles falling back
and years of yesterdays
lost behind the fence
of time, separating.

Like highway lines screaming
stay within the bounds,
no crossing over, at least
without a signaled warning.

There is no going back
to once up on a time
and no going forward
carrying what was unloaded.

We do well to carry ourselves
drive straight, walk upright.
down, the compliment of pills
assuring memory for another day.

Trucks passing, moving fast
while we have found our ramp
escaped at last to peaceful
grass, a cozy room called home.

Read Full Post »

Late May

 

Behind each fence a puppy

jumps up and down, its tail

wagging above its new body.

 

There are hundreds of them

in each school, and more

strolling malls and cruising streets.

Out to be seen. Rough needs.

Young ones prance, soak in

hot shot applause–

fake bone bequeathing nothing.

 

Note: written after reading Ted Kooser’s Late September, in his book Flying by Night

Read Full Post »

Insomnia

Insomnia

 

Three a.m. awake again

eyes wide with dread

cold complicated silence

bosom clutch of possible.

 

Double mind of angled arguments

flung again and again at walls

silent against all threat.

 

Days lost to turning with

guilt married to disturbance

birthed moments unwanted

jagged grief refusing our dismissal

as lungs demand breath after breath.

 

Awake and awake, still

I watch snow sift

its layered shroud

imagine slipping under.

Read Full Post »

At the Edge inside the Fairgrounds

By Jane Penland Hoover

From my position here

the bench
far enough away,
to preserve my innocence,
I watch

the wheel rise to circle,
pause,
seats rocking back and forth,
some tinkling music

floats them up and up
before the drop

from their exalted view.

Read Full Post »