the end is near and we
itch for its arrival,
vigilant as predatory cats,
tails switching,
mouths watering,
eyes glowering,
prepared to pounce on prey
that will only feed us
for the summer months,
when, just as last fall,
we must accept our
new layer of fur,
duck in and out of doors
during cold winter months,
and wait, wait, wait
for the glory of the end,
for warmth,
for spring.
seasons
Mother Nature
when it’s a drought we curse the sky
when it pours we curse the clouds
when it’s cold we curse the snow
when it’s hot we curse the sun
if we took the time to see
that weather isn’t the enemy
then maybe we wouldn’t curse emptily,
but bask in Mother Nature’s glory
who, just like our own hardworking moms
gives us her products without any qualms
and shows us that sometimes what’s healthy is wanted
that without the need, we will always be haunted.
so when it’s a drought remember the rain
when it pours thank her for fruitful flowers
when it’s cold think of snow-melted rivers that
when it’s hot run cold into swim-ready lakes
and perhaps next time when the rain wrecks your day
or the snow makes your drive go a tad bit astray,
you’ll remember that it’s all for a reason,
that Mother Nature controls every season.
Mother’s Day
Your lunch, home cooked and hot,
the four cheeses melting together
with the marinara and mushrooms,
the side of beautifully buttered peas,
is as perfect as the first warm day of spring.
Enjoy every bite as we chase them
down the trail, carry them on our backs,
and remember what it’s like to be a kid,
because this is why we celebrate this day,
this first warm day of spring, Mother’s Day.
Ode to Colorado
Only here will I worry
about traffic jams along the bike path,
runners and bikers decked out
in garishly bright bodysuits
speeding double file
in a race to beat their average
so early on a Saturday morning
Only here will the wind whip up
a thunderstorm that creeps in from
the mountains every afternoon,
sneaking out after torrents
that the dry steppe soaks up
with its thirst for rain
so early in the year’s seasons.
Only here will fourteen miles
vary from century-old Victorians,
to modern multiplexes,
to simple suburban trilevels
tucked amongst the creek that
brought us all here, that connects us
so early in the life of Colorado.
Only here will I raise my girls,
stake my claim, teach my kids
that the beauty surrounding us all
lies within the pedals, the pounding feet,
the mountains bearing weather,
the creek bearing gold, the architecture
that keeps us here, brings us here,
so early in the life of our love.
Cursing the Wind
I can’t curse the wind
it carries the seeds
that make the flowers
to decorate my view
I can’t curse the wind
it pushes me harder
to meet my ambition
that makes me stronger
I can’t curse the wind
it creates the change
that we all need with
a little airing out
I can’t curse the wind
no matter how much
it stings my skin, because
without it I am stagnant.
Ten Million Shades of Green
for less than you paid for the
plastic tarp that covers the addition
you’re attaching to your
6,000-square-foot, $10 million home,
we enjoyed the same priceless views
a sky as blue as God’s eyes
with puffy white clouds dancing
in front of distant snowcapped peaks,
the green hills and weeping willows
decorating the winding, perfectly flat path,
the ponds with cattails, the canal,
the endless crabapples dressed in
pink and white flowers for spring,
the sprouting green bushes,
your gorgeously manicured yards,
green grasses galore,
green buds of leaves popping
out on trees as tall as back east.
your green may have seven figures,
but mine has ten million shades,
strength in my calves,
a content-with-books-to-read-in-the-trailer
oldest daughter,
and priceless views
that I didn’t pay a penny for.
Rainbow (Ode to Amazing Race)
this could be a rainbow
if we ever saw the sun
bright colors all in a row
trying to protect everyone
this could be a rainbow
but we’ll just let it rain
and now here comes the snow!
is it winter all over again?
this could be a rainbow
and we’re laughing like it is
we’re crazy, yes we know
just for a small taste of showbiz
this could be a rainbow
if we measured it by smiles
but we’ll just let it flow
as we walk along our aisles
today we’ve made a rainbow
that shines beneath the clouds
umbrellas and tarps bestow
colorful hope amidst the crowds.
A Perfect Sunday
a muddy trail, a lightweight stroller,
three girls in dresses too pretty for a hike,
the Colorado blue sky peeking out
through wisps of cottonball clouds
and views of red rocks in the forefront,
the perfect center stage to
the distant snowcapped beauties
that draw everyone to this state,
a stop for ice cream on the way home,
grilling burgers and hot dogs
for our first outdoor bugfree patio
dinner of the season,
and we have ourselves
a perfect Sunday.
Summoning Spring
pedals taking me there
the horizon beckons
on either side of my tires
from the west, golden,
hidden under a mask of clouds
the glowing coin of night
settles itself onto a bed of
snowcapped mountain peaks,
the city’s glittering lights
quilting the mattress of spring
from the east, silver,
hidden under a mask of clouds
the flashing fish of morning
prances into a pool of
aquamarine divinity,
the black-roofed suburban homes
splashing the tides of spring.
pedals taking me there
the horizons beckon
the divine hands that
summon spring’s sunrise
on both sides of my tires.
Black Bicycle Tires
At sixteen
(almost seventeen)
I wrote in my journal:
“Busiest street in the city
a solid two days in a row
you crossed it in between
rushes of cars, slow uphill
in gray breath-spilling morning,
heated gasps down the slope in the afternoon.
‘God is sending me miracles!’
you scream out, because
nothing moves as quickly
as black bicycle tires
when it’s almost summer.”
At thirty-one
(almost thirty two),
I write in my journal:
“Silver or magenta,
mountain or road,
black bicycle tires
erase the pain
before and behind me,
a majestic blur of
rubber on pavement,
a remedy for adolescence,
adulthood,
life.
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