vine covered castle
along a winding bike route
past progress now lost
Road Trip Haiku #5
vine covered castle
along a winding bike route
past progress now lost
car
Road Trip Haiku #4
sun rays stream through clouds
on Appalachian hills
green, white, blue beauty
Road Trip Haiku #3
rain in the Smokies
greening the enchanted woods
our daughters long for
Road Trip Haiku #1
red sun rising dawn
over midwest misty lake
beauty for a lens
June (2012) Daughters
Riona
we walk Venice Beach
we’re offered everything
from CD ash trays,
a strip-tease picture with a dog
in a pink bikini,
and endlessly legal marijuana
(doctor on premises!)
mostly oblivious,
you trot alongside
and point to the homeless man
sitting in the lawn, complete
with office chair and
sleeping bag
i explain. you respond:
he lives outside?
in ALL that grass?
well that’s bigger than our house!
and your five-year-old wisdom
has made this beach day better.
Mythili
the conversations
in the 2000-mile backseat drive
are circular and cute
none cuter than
sisters, learning about the Gold Rush
from historical mama, declare,
We want to dig for gold in these mountains!
with your usual no-nonsense logic,
you casually reply,
You’re going to need a drill.
Isabella
for you,
a trip to California
is no more than an excuse
for a brand new story
to share with all your friends
upon your happy return
that’s my girl
Free
it’s not pizza
it’s Beau Jo’s
and we pile on honey
drive across grid-lined neighborhoods
and pray our van won’t die
between Denver and the suburbs
the kids are free tonight
we are free tonight
though strapped down by
a mortgage
two semi-functioning vehicles
endless governmental fees
and a dream that breaks my heart
every time the sun rises
Pandora nor my Mac
will play my music loud enough
i still love them anyway
and though we go to Spain
though we put our lives on the line
to go to Spain
i will love you anyway
My Day
twenty mile morn
miracle van renaissance
baby’s cap and gown
Imaginary Waves
arriving just after dawn
trees bend in the breeze
by midday we swallow sand
the beach’s beauty tainted
a hot wind to bring a new season
I could put my hand out the window
make imaginary waves
pretend that my rhythmic motions
are wings carrying me elsewhere
instead I stare into the distance
mountains masked by haze
and wait for the moment
my moment
when wind will mean more
than bent branches
and the coming of summer
Golden Dream
a three thousand pound weight,
sacks of gold too heavy to lift.
if i could fill them with feathers
and build myself a pair of wings?
i would fly right into the sky
and release myself from monetary need
instead i face a financial dilemma–
drop the gold i can’t quite carry
into the gaping hole of a beast
who will swallow it whole and us too,
leaving behind nothing but wisps
lighter than feathers, unable to fly?
or hold fast to a dream that flies
into every moment of my sleeping wake,
forget the beasts that bear down on me,
and throw my sacks of gold into the sea
as i fly my way to a tomorrow that
i have waited for years to belong to me?
The Runway of His Dreams
we have left the pretty pink bar,
beauty slipping from sky in silent flakes.
the roads are not icy yet,
but moist in anticipation:
the wipers push away drops
(we have no possibility of sliding)
i watch the silent storm
move into my city,
remembering him in eighth grade,
so tiny and cute,
turning around in social studies
and making fun of the teacher
he is not here,
but rides along the slick streets
inside my mind as i pull back
the cautious, modest man he has become,
a beauty in the Beauty Bar
with his grace and patience,
more perfect than any dress
he could ever create
for the runway of his dreams.
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