what you can’t see here
cornered by twilight sun-clouds
i hold in my heart
the rays sparkling
in near-invisible rain
quiet end to day
corner of my heart
sparkling in silver streaks
silver streets of home
seasons
That’s Motherhood
blueberry morning
jumping, painting, coloring
make my Mother’s Day
(never mind the fights
the back talk that’s motherhood
the teen wannabes)
to end, we play spoons
the morning snow has melted
we have only blooms
only love we share
with slightly spoiled three girls
who gave me this day
Spring Sprung Commute
driving’s for the birds
who’d love these pretty flowers
as they fly to work
April Showers
her news rains on me
slicker than wet spring sidewalks
so slippery, life
Silver Streaks of Rain
with my old playlist
i fight an uphill battle
pedal into wind
your words lost on me
abandonment tastes bitter
as you once told me
silver streaks of rain
cross winds with old memories
i. never. give. up.
ten minutes to spare,
i make my destination.
(you are nowhere near)
my life without you:
la lengua extranjera
que no puedes ver
Sunday Summary
blueberry waffles
begin a windy spring day
end of sleepovers
playground half empty
we watch cormorants build nests
wait for timeliness
it comes with patience
for people nothing like us
who make Rio grin
oldest gets her wish
while younger two learn to sew
with grandma’s guidance
kids’ clothes for one buck
the gift Goodwill offers me
shorts for all summer
medium rare steak
(vegetarian’s nightmare)
my chef-made dream meal
so ends my Sunday
sister talk moves toward kindness
summer dreams await
Cycling through the City
teary-eyed ending
to fifteen-mile bike ride
oh, but donut grin
we stopped at projects
perfect playground, tire swings
Africans playing
(my dream neighborhood:
kids play outside, not with screens
poverty beats us???)
my middle child
pedaling through our city
here: my home, my heart
Too Many Times
i search for blossoms
book i’ve read too many times
haunts the cloudy day
feet ache from standing
walk i’ve walked too many times
spring pops out, teases
to erase my dreams
dreams i’ve dreamt too many times
they become nightmares
i see what i want
plans i’ve lost too many times
(life’s a rented dream)
he doesn’t see it
talk we’ve had too many times
he sees only me
so hard to carry
weight i’ve dropped too many times
petals soften fall
i search for blossoms
words i wrote too long ago
too many times back
Crabapple
spring flowers bloom up
on hopes that flit like petals
breezing by my cheek
Vacation’s End
back home, we play ball
wash and fold six laundry loads
shop, dye eggs, move on
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