joy for middle one
bed frame for her garden view
(and home for stuffies)
poetry
Spiraling into Control
after a draining day
with back talk on all fronts
i just want to laugh it up
at a simple game
between a spiral and a kitten
to spin my mood back
An Earful
to have someone listen
with eyes and words offered in peace
and make promises you know she’ll keep
and coo at cute colleagues’ babies
and smile behind tears we all so often hide…
it makes a Monday bearable,
a coffeehouse tea taste smooth and soothing,
a repressed voice feel fulfilled for the first time in years,
and a view into the future shine bright with silver linings
70 Degrees
ride along canal
to find new favorite playground
the March to summer
Reaching Forward, Reaching Back
my oldest rides now
while searching for climbing trees
that hold tight to youth
Serve It Up
a sunny March Friday
juiced with music and art
divided by a field trip
pounded by a parent teacher conference
squeezed between piano and happy hour
(tea for me please)
topped off with restaurant and workout
and the cooling creamy dream
of mint chocolate chip
for a sunny side down ending
to my never ending meal
In Case You Wondered…
the school door is locked at 5 a.m.
in case you needed to know,
your key card will conjure the green light,
but the door won’t click open.
7-Eleven is open at that hour,
and there’s no traffic on any street.
nothing but a sliver of silver moonlight
competing with the dull yellow glow of city streetlights.
you can walk with fear in your step
(who is that hooded creature?)
while waiting for the door to open.
listen to your audiobook about the
Roosevelt Panama Canal scandal.
(wish you hadn’t heard it, wish Roosevelt could remain the king of conservation you’ve admired atop
Mt. Rushmore, glasses, grin, and all)
you can find yourself at 5 a.m.
piled under papers and planning,
sleep surrendered to 4-prep stress,
solace comes from pre-dawn accomplishments.
(the door clicks open at 5:30.
before the secretary can check you in.
before breakfast lunch carts arrive,
and hundreds of hungry hands hanker for your time)
you can start a day at 5 a.m.
it will be inundated with a quagmire of mother’s guilt and teacher’s helplessness,
all because of a shuttered door.
Sleepless
recurring nightmare
hit me harder with midnight
than the purring cat
Blue
a late-start, no-student day
gave me the gift of mornings
i’ve lost too many times to count–
fixing hair, pushing swings, sipping tea,
taking in the blue reflection
before the real blue settles on my shoulders
as i face the reality of tall, heavy doors
that keep me from being my best
(but i have those smiles
swinging circles in my soul,
reminding me of the
calming beauty of blue)
Trailing
more than thirty-three miles
too long for these sedentary legs
trying to race the sun
trying to find my way home
with little headwind and my blue-sky view
Pandora playlist popping me along
everything should be perfect
everything should be all right
but rejection trails behind tire spins
blocking my perfect peak view
making me regret it again, again
making me wish i never left
what is it about me that they hate?
that is the constant question i ask
trying to find February sun
trying to be the me they want
Step Write Up 