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

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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

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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!!!!

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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

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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

Maternal Thievery

mother’s midnight dance:
rinse puke from stuffies and sheets
listen for gag sounds

hazy dose of job
sick grandma cares for sick girl
while sick husband works

cycle never ends
grandmother mother daughter
through sickness, health

mother’s twilight dance:
six laundry loads, leave sick girl
in hands now soft, warm

sleep? a silent joke
stolen from night, afternoon
thieves, our mothers’ love

Tuned

timid youngest one
belts out her favorite chorus
shines when she’s on stage

middle girl hidden
by misplaced tall fourth grader
i still hear her sing

it won’t be long now
(and i pinch back dreaded thoughts)
this will be over

my oldest, seated
not with us, but with the friends
she has gained this year

how miraculous
to see her back to herself
facing the world

i faced eleven
in this auditorium
but i didn’t sing

three girls, different tunes
wonder where notes will lead them
back to me, i hope

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Working Mother

she asks to cuddle
begs for me to put down work
endless hard choices

Rules of Childhood

challenging poses
stave off pre-holiday cold
virus can’t beat me

candy-scented home
bowls brimming with sugar dreams
homage to his mom

girls learn gift giving
how to think beyond themselves
wrapped in red ribbon

i’d wrap happiness
and place it under the tree
if it would save them

childhood rules us
far beyond its eighteen years
may theirs be happy

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