our cycle closes
with a capital bike ride
and a pointed view
with paths everywhere
this city has won my heart
even in the heat
where honor presides
through a symmetrical stroll
of fallen soldiers
DC mixes all:
museums, monuments, paths
marking past; future.
we find ourselves here
remembering our lost dreams
in these reflections
in the man’s big house
they built him a three-room suite;
his children lived here:
remnants of slave life:
hard-hitting and far-reaching
(Black Lives Matter. Now?)
they dug up red clay
to lay every brick … by brick,
by breaking their backs
his famous status:
founder of freedom, writer
(declared our country)
brick by brick by brick
he laid his lies and kept his slaves
and wrote our future
and we swallow it
and throw coins at his gravestone
and try to forgive
they all shared this view–
from the big house; the slave house;
the land formed by God
and so we move on,
brick by brick by road by road
to see its beauty
forts can be pretty
and with alligator moats
quite exciting, too
hobbit holes exist
if you travel far enough
to open your eyes
cousin love binds us
just as beaches and waves do
under our shared sky
biking brings beauty
along every road we ride
from mountains to coast
oldest Florida site
enthralls us like we’re in Spain
(memories abound)
coquina fortress
built on the sweat from slaves’ backs
(engineering feat)
defense of this sight:
gleaming harbor colony
(worth the protection)
a dogged day’s drive
at the end of this journey
(worth the distraction)
history, not mice:
Florida is more than Disney
(all they need to know)
from a fighting ride
to playing dolls on the beach;
camp beauty parlor
love my travelers–
though they bicker and complain–
the road unites them
only each other
to entertain, love, and learn
making their journey
under this bright moon
as it waxes our return
to everywhere home
she may look little
but like me she’s tough as nails
despite your warnings
she knows what she wants–
we drove three thousand miles
to snorkel today
yes, she’ll face high swells
and stay within my arm’s reach
but she won’t give up.
never doubt my girls.
there’s too much of me in them
and we’re warriors.
we pick up lizards
and make millipedes our pets
and chase iguanas
we make our dreams true
with each setting sun, moon rise
–doesn’t matter where.
tree-lined streets adieu
NOLA saved for memories
as we meet the dawn
Pensacola Beach:
a hot disappointment rests
behind Blue Angels
but once the sky clears
the clear water saves the day
before sea-bridge drive
our Florida lesson:
aim for blue skies, check schedules,
and fly for our dreams
on a perfect day
with music following us
on every corner
i sometimes get trapped
in thoughts of poverty, loss
(also on corners)
my girls all grinning
taking pics and buying gifts–
the perfect white life
yet anger jumps out
from car windows and bar doors,
a cruel reminder:
we’re not all equal.
some of us can ride trolleys,
take month-long road trips.
others beg for change
with thin plastic drinking cups
that they’ll fill later
in all this joy: grief.
vacations are like heaven
mixed with sorrow
baby blooms her legs
on a twenty-mile trek
through city of dreams
just in time for me:
home visits and meetings done–
rain, clean out this heat!
let summer begin
with a fresh layer of green,
a rushing river
an evening walk
through gardens and mysteries,
a dream awakened
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