My oldest turns thirty three today.
Thirty three years on this planet that I love.
I’m not sure he loves it as I do
or as I’d like him to but maybe.
Maybe he does even moreso
but he does not go around
shouting about it.
Category: Poems
June
June opens her slender arms calling for
a moonlit dance with a side of pie and I
well I do not like to be rude and with a
shy smile I accept.
End of May
Putting another month to rest
I look back across and see thirty days
I am pleased to have lived thirty days
placed gently in my brain’s cupboard
with all the many others lying modestly
there glassine layers in a stack asking
nothing of me expecting nothing
just lightly being all the days that
together form a singular life one which
no one else will ever quite know
nor will I theirs and on we go carrying with
us our little packets of secrets that we could
not share if we wanted to.
Rain in the Night
Lovely rain arrived in the night
bringing gifts for the birds
surprises me waking to wet leaves
shiny streets a cloud-laden sky one
red cardinal perched on the top of
the Queen of Hearts’ head singing
no doubt about the greatness of rain
of Life as he knows it
of True Love babies and hope
of the particularities of this day.
And as the sun peers out from
its cloudy home the trees’ dripping
leaves flash all glitzed up as if for
a gala event the name of which
I cannot know but to which I
most fervently wish to be invited.
Old Age
I wonder how I will be in old age
how cheerful how content how firm or infirm
how gently I will think of myself and others
with what aplomb I will approach the various
obstacles that fall across my path and
whether or not any small dog(s) will trot
along the path beside me or race ahead in
their exuberance pulling my old bones
along on their careening caravan of youth.
True Love
We sat in canvas chairs watching
The Fiddler on the Roof under the stars
on the evening of a hot day
an unexpectedly cool breeze
traveling through the park
crescent moon lazing
behind a cottonwood tree.
Just a local amateur production
with plenty of off-key singing but
evocative nonetheless. And I flipped
easily through my brain’s catalog
of evenings spent just like this
as a girl in the free seats at the St. Louis
Muny Opera with my mother my aunt
my sisters and later my best friend
once or even twice in the ticketed seats.
The night air blew through in just this way
that same moon hung above just like this
cottonwoods swayed beyond the stage
the sky took on that very shade of blue and
eventually the first star popped out for a wish.
My dreamy girl’s heart opened wide back then
to the romances played out onstage and I
longed for my own imagined future
in which True Love won out grandly over
the mundane of everyday life.
The love I was absolutely certain I’d
one day have; the mundane never.
Doing It
One day I will do it
follow the path
do the thing
take the risk
launch that boat
navigate to the place
I truly want to be.
Whatever stops me cannot be
immovable surely as I myself
have placed it there. Others
think I’ve realized my dream
but this is only a diversion
that looks like the dream.
You’re doing what you love
they say and it is partly true
but partly only. One day
I will truly do it. I will.
I imagine I have needed all
this time to get ready
at least that is the nice thing
I will say about it.
Same Old Moon
We walked over a narrow bridge above
a wide expanse of water still as a drum
the moon’s slender boat slung above,
our hands comfortably snug
in each other’s back pockets
and stood in wonderment at
the starry firmament the moon the expanse
silently telling each to the other a tale
of redemption one that would take us
deep into old age beyond infirmity
and aching bones one day even past
the sailing ship of that same old moon.
Revelations
Full to the absolute rim of my cup today
inspirations shooting through my brain
a veritable fountain a plethora an avalanche of possibilities
lightbulbs popping on, one after one and another!
No time to loll or lollygag no dawdling allowed.
The doing is now the thing oh how the doing calls.
My two dogs snore dreaming unaware of my
epiphanous revelations.
Surpassing
And now a branch of the walnut tree
bobs just outside my window
its slender leaves dancing dappled
in the cool morning sun.
How can I leave this room just now?
For though other sights may be
grander, more sublime
breathtaking
just now in this moment
that particular green
that inimitable light
those perfect shapes
that graceful ballet
surpass All.