I love you to pieces
I told my mother each time I called
and she’d say back to me
I love you, too, girl.
I say it to my sons, too, occasionally my
black poodle which in my mind does not
diminish its meaning at all.
I would like to give a squeeze right
this minute to my
oh so huggable mother
now two years gone.
I hear a hot air balloon but cannot see it
though I open the window and lean far
out into the big room of the world.
And I am dizzy with trying.
Just there it eludes me
like the answer to a question
I’ve puzzled and picked at
often and often again.
Now even the sound is gone
and with it the hint of an answer.
In the middle of the ocean of sky sat
that unflappable moon full as a peach.
I dreamed it was surrounded by great
elliptical rings like the rings of Saturn.
Everyone even the nightingale even
the crying babies hushed as whole
towns fell silent watching.
Fireflies left off their flashing.
Stars quietly turned off their lights.
Clouds flung themselves away.
As if on cue a drift of wisdom
settled upon the heads of All
like soft felt hats.
On a night picnic
the languid quarter moon
canoes over our heads.
We eat slices of cool black sky
the luscious pieces slipping
from fingers to mouths
a sprinkle of sharp stars crunching
between the stony pearls of our teeth.
From the basket you pull a box of
cherries saying they are just the thing.
We lie on our backs shooting cherry pits
at the moon missing by a hair every time
and wish for nothing.
If we (I) could so truly love what we (I) have
just now just this very now we (I) might
be bowled right over like pins in a lane
knocked giggling breathlessly every which way
thrown right off our plain old grumpy balance
by a big round ball of happiness.
A racket of crows punctuated by the long cries
of a hawk filled the sky from early morning until past noon.
The hawk had caught a crow and each time it ventured out
of its nest was assailed by the whole angry lot of them.
Such a noise such a wild chase, all simply for survival.
Oh sure we want that too–not just to see another day
but to see our grandchildren grow, our gardens bloom,
our dreams come true, our hearts opened by love.
We want to watch the moon rise, see a thousand sunsets,
visit the Grand Canyon, be witness to our lives, maybe
find a cure for cancer, unlock the secret to world peace.
And in our way we are just as noisy about it
as a gaggle of angry crows.
Honeysuckle perfumes my whole yard
enough surely to sweeten the bitter cup
of a hot steamy miserable July weekend
shoving its way into my merry little month of May.
Super moon biggest fullest ever moon
I don’t know why
but I did spy
it in the sky
with my little eye
last night. And so let
the mischief begin.
Oh today’s the day the day all right
bringing along with it I can’t know what
and that’s the beauty isn’t it
the beauty of a morning of a day
a chunk of twenty four hours
poised and ready inviting All
to go and do with or without hats
whatever it is All think of going and doing.
Anyone knows this anyway but there it is
nevertheless said.
Unwelcome storms break this day
one additional jangling snag
in a day already laden with burdens.
My equanimity ekes out.