though the leaves are dark and gray
spring warmth has peeked into February
bringing bright buds of hope
out from under winter’s dust
i spend the afternoon on my knees
pulling back remnants of last year
tossing battered bits into the compost
readying my earth for its awakening
red and green and even aspen
tease me from their burrowed roots
promising with winter’s end
that color can come back home
it’s hard to swallow
differences that divide us
though our aim’s the same
a sunset of hope
that tomorrow will bring light
to mountains, valleys
walk beneath my blue sky
kids joke and whine, just like mine
and meet the kinders
bright-eyed, on the rug
so excited to see us
they only have hope
i wish they’d share it
with my downtrodden walkers
who lose it daily
a snowy drive home
on continental divide
of waters reborn
relaxing hot springs
matched with fifty laps and joy
in mountain escape
errands, laundry done
everything packed, lunches made:
perfect weekend plans?
two kids sick with colds
a rock slide adding four hours
and Bruce has the flu
his first break from work
ruined by illness and stress
such is life: stressed hopes
the jury resides
in a wall of fallen rocks
that stalls our weekend
first world problems
(a long, laughter-filled car ride
is easily solved)
thirteen comes but once
and no rocks have once kept me
from climbing mountains
thirteen has arrived,
rearing its ugly head with back talk
and tormenting sibling rivalry,
with GPA pressure in seventh grade
and the desperate need of a young girl
to isolate herself from her family
(for a film in her “genre,”
to write her story,
to paint silver nail polish on
my mother’s-her-ladylike nails,
alone, alone in her room)
alone, alone as a mother
i brought her home from the hospital,
and she wouldn’t open her eyes for ten days,
so infused with jaundice-yellow skin
and the vast ordeal of
a long and painful labor,
and i could barely walk,
and she would barely eat,
yet she was mine, mine,
my first take at motherhood,
my first trial at real,
gut-opening, visceral
pain
from my heart into my groin
from my heart i have raised her,
one failed attempt at control
after another, her bar as the oldest
set higher than her sisters would
ever hope to even catch
in their strained glimpse
beneath her slender shadow,
me always asking more than what
she wants to offer,
fighting through tears we’ve
shared on too many nights
fighting through to become this
surreal force that connects
her face to mine,
the picture that sits on my
windowsill at work always bringing the same comment,
“That one, that one looks like you,”
the only one of three to be my twin,
too high-spirited to capture,
too strong-willed to be anything less
than my firstborn
my firstborn turns thirteen today,
placing a moratorium on that dwindling youth
i tried to trap years ago
when she couldn’t sit still on the naughty step,
at the dinner table,
or in between my endless kisses
on her chubby cheeks–
nor now, as she bursts through doors, breaks ceramic pots
i’ve had her whole life,
spins circles on skates
and chases,
chases,
chases that dream we all still hold in our hearts when we are thirteen,
when we still think the world is ours,
that we will be the best kid,
student, friend, daughter….
knowing that we will open our eyes when we’re ready,
sit still when the time is right,
back talk to find our voice,
and never, never, never
be anyone other than ourselves
kind words and thank yous
so simple, yet meaningful
far beyond letters
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