on Saturdays we cut out grass
and bend bits of metal
and win medals in Tae Kwon Do
and watch weird episodes of a modern drama
while the oldest babysits
and oh how our life has changed
from changing diapers to ours changing diapers
and we go to bed hours after
the joy of slipping off clothes
to slide into fleece pajamas
with kittens in our laps
and just love love love
that we. can. relax.
autumnal offer:
a windy, sunny lunch stroll
in my favorite park
a lonely park walk
can rejuvenate the soul
(my soul needs flowers)
Numbers for our weekend: Bruce turned 39, our marriage turned 18, we hiked 25 miles, gained 4520 feet in elevation, endured 100 or more stream crossings, 4 thunderstorms, 50 fallen trees, and carried 80 pounds of food, equipment, and water. We reached our limit halfway through yesterday, but marriage is continuous–we chose the loop trail just like we chose each other 18 years ago. And we’ll keep hiking, helping each other cross streams, build shelters, cook meals, and climb mountains, till the last limit of our lives. Happy anniversary!
we strike the trail late
met by an abundant blue
(clouds can keep secrets)
lunch is disrupted
by stream-crossing detours
(till we see our fault)
then comes rain and pain
realizing we were tricked
(the trail is longer)
camp set up quickly
dinner wolfed, shoes soaked by grass
(thunder moving in)
hours in the tent
thinking, how could it, why now?
(tests of our marriage)
but the bag is warm
and we have love and shelter
(all a marriage needs)
celebrating us
with a long walk in the woods
(away from it all)
silence is golden
when resting feet at sunset
(your birthday present)
the breeze reminds me:
i drove twenty-one hours
to find this beauty
better than the beach:
that grin on your face; these views;
hard-earned sore muscles
thank you for crazy–
(the long drive, the longer walk,
another “us” year)
much needed beach day
rediscovering the wind
with our love rainbows
baby blooms her legs
on a twenty-mile trek
through city of dreams
sometimes the best words
remain trapped behind the view
of silent cycling
eight miles of views
captured between bickering
parenting is hard
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