middle girl yoga
next to me in our small space
sisters couch cuddle
breathe into the night
find the pose that suits you best
family namaste
motherhood
Pieceful Peace
red-letter day starts
with no meetings, extra plan
and ends with yoga
all baskets empty
week of copies, lesson plans
teacher’s piece of peace
students were pleasant
chess-club-induced quiet house
recharges my soul
soon they’ll bombard me
with high-strung voices of youth
different piece of peace
i’ll take the pieces
fit them into life’s puzzle
each day can bring peace
Catch Me a Moon
before dawn, i walk
full moon of icy danger
to be there for them
classroom lit, open
first day, students new to me
i set standards high
phones, backtalk, shouting
first impression resistance
shake me to my core
after school begging
for schedule changes, fallbacks
they hate and love me
i missed my girls’ smiles
their good-morning kisses, hugs
to face this chaos?
slushy post-school walk
to their bright eyes, warm faces
lost in built-up play
then, online ranting
plagiarizing grown student
demanding grade change
why you, and not them?
the question of my moon day
please… catch me a moon
make it bright like them
shining beyond snowy morn
lighting, guiding love
Cry Babies
realization:
i’m halfway through motherhood
(though it never ends)
ten-year-old letter
brought me back to those first days
late-night crying babes
but ten years from now?
they’ll all be out of the house
i’ll cry, my babies
when i open it
will my heart be sad, or lost
or, at best, hopeful?
will i be relieved
to think of my youngest girl
sitting in my lap?
or devastated
because she no longer will?
oh how i love them
but i’m halfway through
they’re better skiers than me
(and everything else)
no more crying babes
just the lust for lost moments
that hurt us then, now
Planning. To Not Plan.
what secrets are found
in twenty years of letters?
and what dreams will come?
at sixteen, desperate
first love turmoil, heart crushed
i lived for friends, love
at twenty-six, scared
new baby, husband’s lost job
i lived on blind faith
now, thirty-six,
my life begins to balance
career, family… home??
sleep in which bed, house?
on which continent–east, west?
in whose arms–mine, his?
the letter will tell
my thirty-six-year-old goals
where my heart beats now
but heartbeats have wings
my girls will be all grown up
the world will change
i hope to keep up
with the childlike soul i dreamt
as a young lovebird
while at the same time
accepting life’s challenges
and… i can’t plan them
Write of Passage
our boots squeak with snow
light as sparkling feathers
quiet city streets
middle one agrees
to traipse in winter beauty
so much like her mom
this brings me to peace
from sleepless, sorrowful nights
my words lost, then found
like our snowy prints
only seen from right behind
otherwise ignored
my most precious gift
recorded for all my life
despised by loved ones
perhaps she will walk
behind my wordy footsteps
her write to escape
for now, quiet snow
i accept what i can’t change
and keep on writing
White Christmas
her comments swallowed
like the Christmas morn semen
cranberry juice, please
i’m not defensive
just wish for white Christmases
like everyone else
i can win this game
Cards Against Humanity
with my best haiku
five girls are sleeping
in my parents’ bungalow
i love my city
my favorite movie
It’s a Wonderful Life, YES!!
live and Live and LIVE!!!!
Enough
as they grow older
it’s no longer life and death
over midnight cries
now? supply, demand
business modeled parenting
what if we run out?
what can i buy or give
to make them happy, love me?
which–time or gifts?
it’s never enough
they’re either spoiled or loved
often hard to tell
give them the world
so they’ll toss it back to me
demand better one
it’s human nature
to aspire for what’s not there
i’m never enough
love should be enough
i’m up nights loving too much
(they never see this)
as they grow older
i miss the crying days when
i knew they loved me
a hug was enough
to make it through a tough time
and they were all mine
no one will say this
they’ll say how much easier
they’re independent
independent, yes
from our once easy embrace
to face life’s demands
and to demand more
to make me question myself
will this be enough?
no simple response
to parenthood dilemmas
enough guilt tonight
Proximity
lattice top apple
laid by a baking expert
five years of hard work
culinary school?
kitchens of Denver and Spain
dough soft as her cheek
yes, she was just three
her first try in our kitchen
all to be near me
i can’t buy her dreams
or make Santa come to life
but i’ll give her that
Home. Made.
another stressed day
just before Christmas bustle
lost to this sickness
tears fresh this morning
frozen pond glistening dawn
star-studded boathouse
guilt trailing my job
as he rushed home, two sick girls
and me? meetings, plans
she came back today
babyless, unpacking shelves
repacking her life
her despondence stung
i couldn’t leave her alone
burdened with boxes
we made plans, had lunch
I got your card, she told me
we’re not sending any
no family photo
for his first, never Christmas
(this is what i hear)
but she won’t say that,
leaves me lines to read between
your girls’ pic was great
her grief in all words
she tells of Christmas-free plans
prepared to move on
this i carry home
with oldest’s three earned awards
to my handsome chef
his job ends next week
i won’t worry who’ll nurse them
and make chicken soup
noodles fall from spoons
and girls, all better, delight
priceless remedy
now they’ll discuss me
what will he do now, and you?
i’ll have no answer
only the safety
of the home he makes for us
beyond what they see
Step Write Up 