Long Months, Short Years

eighteen long months late,
we celebrate our friendship
of thirty short years

she survived COVID
now, we're both vaccinated
to celebrate love

what a perfect place
green grounds, infinity pool
for endless friendship

Fuzzy Blooms

thank you for the “no.”
as phallic as this lupine
(allium ignored)

i will learn from this
(things i tell myself at night)
and grow a sagebrush

it will bloom purple
(you can’t see my true color)
and you can’t taste it

yet, here it blossoms
as beautiful as the home 
you constantly loathe

i know. i know. i…
you don’t see what i see. stop.
but god. how it hurts.

these rare teen moments
everyone together; joy
minus jobs, school, stress

summer days beckon
drinks on rooftop patios
(mocktails for the kids)

the cold creek calls us
with shade, icy refreshment
from the sun’s harsh heat

and these cousins bond
under summer vacation 
(our home is their heart)

what you don’t see here:
picking rhubarb in the rain
for salvation pie

three-thirty a.m.
my oldest’s footsteps. good steps.
intentional steps.

this is not a moon.
this is a lunar eclipse.
(Super-Flower-Blood)

and she’ll be gone soon.
(no early-morning steps).
and i. am. eclipsed.

shadows of loss win
the afternoon shines bright.
(we still have our moon)

the best time of year
is strawberry-rhubarb pie
(yes, it's a season)

baked by my daughter
the sweet and sour combo
shines as bright as spring

my perfect symbol: 
trying so hard for peaches
even while dying

there's no heartbreak here
just my girl, eighteen years old,
ready to face them

sneakers underneath
(pandemic proms are outdoors,
under tents, in grass)

she's taller, braver.
in her silver floor-length gown,
she masters the night

and aren't we a crowd?
this master-mix of humans,
standing on these rocks?

unsinkable us
right below the Molly Brown
(ready to swim. Win.)

self-portrait art show
for my two youngest daughters
sunflower, glass shine