Author: Kay Foley

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Lottery

Money worries over, my pen writes,

when I win the one hundred nineteen

million dollars a number fixed in my brain

that will mean my money worries are over

a party thrown in the house soon

to be fixed up better than new

no way anymore for the rain to creep in

and drip drip drip in yet another new place

the grey cloud of unease replaced

by the cozy knowing that I and we

are warm and dry inside our sturdy home

unassailed by torrents or only sprinkles

of rain that fall and isn’t it funny

how a person contemplating a windfall of

one hundred nineteen million dollars

thinks firstly and lastly of something like

a roof that no longer leaks not

a convertible car

transAtlantic cruise

second home in the south of France

but only the luxurious thing of staying

cozy and dry while looking out the

windows at a romantic thunderstorm?

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Littles

Elephants bumble through the jungle

of my sleepy brain elephants and polka dots

my two small nieces one a baby wrapped

up in stars her sister’s head a pouf of curl, eyes agaze.

When my boys were little

I liked to drift into the fancy lands

of books as I read to them

three warm bodies pressed

close as ever close

four blue and two brown eyes

intent on the colorful pictures

their own fierce imaginings

carrying them wherever they went

as the words marched forth.

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If

I do not like money and there’s the rub

the reason, I imagine, that I do not have it.

However I do like Things and that includes

of course the things money cannot buy but

also those it can, for example

party dresses and fancy shoes

windows that slide up and down

open and close

doors that shut properly

hats

airline tickets

bottles of champagne

books baubles chocolates in boxes

a roof that never leaks

and oh if I had a bit more money

maybe just one more dog.

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Look and Learn

Two squirrels give chase

up and down the black walnut tree

where they were born.

How many generations of squirrels

have nested in that old tree?

I am told that the leaves of certain trees

will turn themselves over in

anticipation of a storm.  Why?

And dragonflies live underwater

for five years before surfacing

and being dragonflies, only to fly

and mate for a single summer!

I could spend a lifetime looking

and learning and yet what I’ve

gathered by the time I go could

easily be likened to a single

strand of a dandelion puff

in the grand scheme of things.

And so. How could one ever

be finished with this world?

Or grow tired of it?

I hope I never do.

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Charms

If I could whistle up a charm

for us I’d make my mouth

into a small perfect oh

and then fingers crossed

toes firmly planted

eyes closed (for conjuring)

put my whole soul and heart

behind one long breath blown

evenly through that oh

and then you and I

would stand hushed

as the pretty little

goodnesses sprinkled down

all over us like pink sugar

on two happy cupcakes.

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Taxes

Sun shoots of a sudden

right into my eye

reminding me of all

that lies beyond the window

out there where birds fly and I

must attend to the very

important matters of

stone leaf creek and flower

leaving behind the trivial

business of money and taxes

for at least one fat hour.

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The Creek

Creek was higher than I’d ever seen

overflowing the trail

eating away its banks

rushing off like a train

to some distant destination

or anywhere really

anywhere at all, no matter

as long as nothing

got in its way.

It is a moody thing

two days ago so still and low

we crossed easily on a string

of a few small rocks.

But now! I half expect

to see houses carried along

boats full of people in lifejackets

crates marked fragile

elephants giraffes zebras

bankers in their suits

on top of wooden desks

cars swiped from the road.

None of this appeared (of

course) and thank God for that.