four parents arrive
yet you steal my night from home
but girls were all smiles
left to eat pudding
and choose a later bedtime
they thought they were free
back-to-school-night blues
twisted in a different tune
through a child’s eyes
four parents arrive
yet you steal my night from home
but girls were all smiles
left to eat pudding
and choose a later bedtime
they thought they were free
back-to-school-night blues
twisted in a different tune
through a child’s eyes
too tired to grade
allergies ruling my life
waiting for snowflakes
baby stops mid-hill
after fifteen miles, done
she’s still my winner
i will wait for her
as we end this Labor Day
she is my last one
my beach day Denver
filled with beautiful sun girls
swimming and cycling
dreams are made this way
blue skies, wood-fired pizza, sun
and spinning tires
confluence meets park
bike path meets Vittetoe fam
we meet our happy
summer’s end flowers
and a zip line that beats Spain’s
best spent allowance
unions gave day off
for sleeping in and waffles
life’s a rented dream
i think in haikus
in between Monday cycles
that bring creeks and joy
with thousands of words
one hundred twenty letters
high schoolers shocked me
today? long boarding
last year? three mile water walk
in refugee camp
fathers left for dead
or years without their mothers
fear crossing borders
Somali warlords
Thai school beatings, civil war
their innocence lost
dreams to bring back peace
to a country they escaped
(and to pass my class)
whirlwind of worlds
sit in six columns, five rows
can i reach them all?
free education
earned with a blood-torn tear trail
worth every penny
late night yelling voice
sounds hollow and resentful
just like all those months
from beautiful blues
driving west this nowhere car
hate how you hate me
my world in haiku:
if sixteen years later, mad?
without you, i die
please remember peaks
and how we pique every peak
make yourself mine, Bruce
thirty-three mile ride
sunflowers to skyscrapers
all on a bike path
if this isn’t home
to find yourself on two wheels
Denver beckons you
no pictures today
tires spin too fast to stop
memory stores love
they question motives
as all good scientists should
will their stems sun-stretch?
be the begonia
is this year’s inspiration
its difference is clear
not heart-shaped wither
soil-sensitive to live
pretty, yes, but weak
mother-in-law tongues
that survive a hundred years
don’t bend toward the sun
but my begonia?
a gift given before Spain?
it lives beyond dreams
be the begonia
not the wanton bamboo sprout
the sun seeks your strength