snow

Writing My Bike

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

it came to me in the summer.
Writing My Bike:
this should be the name of my new blog.
will i only write when i ride?
will i only ride when i write?

winter’s creeping in
with bitter cold mornings
that make my pedals run stiffly,
my layered legs tight with frost,
my mittened hands gripping
the first wisps of light on early mornings.

He may try, but Jack Frost can’t deter me.
i’ll be writing my bike to the top
of a mountain in May (racing a train),
and i need these legs to pedal me
through everything that will come
between now and then.

My Mountain

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

For Olivia

walking together
hands apart
we could climb
slope after slope

it could be pretty
with shrubs
and wildflowers
and young scrub oaks

it might sprinkle,
sparkling your eyes
just a tad with
twisted rays of light

you could lead the way
and i could follow
(something new for me)
and give in to your desires.

but

it wouldn’t build
our hamstrings
with the ever-harder
mountain climbs

it wouldn’t bring
us (no matter how many slopes)
to the glorious
tops of fourteeners

it would never be the same
as tall pines giving way
to snow-covered peaks,
to insurmountable beauty

it would be you and i
new and rounded
(soft and wary)
not as hard-won as the years
(the poking-into-sky
sharp-at-our-cores
daring-to-be-ourselves
mountain peaks)
i have given to her,
my mountain,
my home,
my love.

The Hollow of the Tree

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just like the novel we have
taken turns reading
your love is as cold as the snow
(falling on cedars)

perhaps not to us
but we can feel its vacuous
chill as you glance sideways
towards them

and we wait
in the hollow of the tree
for the moment when
the snow will stop
and your love will keep us warm

Mother Nature

/ lovizmytrio / Leave a comment

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.

Rainbow (Ode to Amazing Race)

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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.

Ten Haikus for 2010

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Only in Denver
do we enjoy seventy
degrees and then snow.

Running eight hot miles
is easier than having
to say no to you.

Watching Grease again
I wonder if I’m being
their very best mom.

Screaming loud children
are like daffodils: better
when the sun is out.

Two dark chocolate cakes,
one happy hour, zero
days of school: perfect.

Parents who dislike
teachers should home-school their kids
and stop degrading.

Girls wearing dresses
are rainbows shining brightly
after the downpour.

Family is a gift
and also a sacrifice
that makes us complete.

Television steals
moments that we should share to
make the world better.

Spring is a wild breeze
that ushers out winter’s cold
and blows in summer.

The Fierce Heat of Living

/ lovizmytrio / 2 Comments

(Inspired by David Whyte)

How do I survive in the fierce heat of living?
by taking her hand within my own
and dashing across the stalemate parking lot
on our way to our next adventure,
plucking up her sisters (trapping their
thrilled screams in boxes)
to ride a bike behind my new two-wheel rider,
to ride a plastic horse for a penny,
to choose another fantasy from the library,
everything free (almost free)
just like the way life was, once,
before we knew better.

How do I survive in the fierce heat of living?
by taking her hand within my own
and dashing into the blue moon night
on our way to our next adventure,
plucking off our clothes (trapping their
tangled mess in piles)
to scream out into the darkness
to roll our nakedness in the snow
to choose another fantasy from our minds,
everything free (almost free)
just like the way life is, now,
because we know better.

Ode to Snow

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I love the way you whisper across the sky
and just as gently touch the skin of the road
in swirls as graceful as ballerinas,
dancing away from the tires that try to pound you.

I love the way you quietly decorate the trees
more picture-perfectly than a white wedding cake,
more idyllic than the solitude of dreamland,
frosting my eyes with your sparkling glory.

I love the way you arrive without arrogance,
sliding in from your silvery satin clouds,
snatching the cold from our hearts and
trapping its truth within each flake.

I love how you slip into conversations
sometimes filled with excitement and joy,
sometimes filled with a terror or fright
that people recall for years to come.

I love how you selflessly offer yourself to the world,
how, catlike, you sneak in and make this time,
this place, a different shade of happiness,
bringing us all a beauty that we could never create.