summer-teasing sky
in the midst of finals week
beckons this field trip
free lawn movie night
we can pretend school’s out
just four days early
weather
Return
sunny skies return
for a barbecue birthday
mimosas and love
perfect city walk
through the perfect Denver ‘hood
gold gardens galore
kids with grandparents
treasuring these small moments
till the rain returns
Voices
younger girls’ voices
marred by oldest’s attitude
they just want to sing
i just want to hear
all their tiny voices sing
like when they were tots
concert on the green
plagued by rain, adolescence,
unforgiving looks
at home, peace returns
Daddy’s voice sings poetry
as he says goodnight
the oldest studies
in her hole of happiness
escapes into books
my voice escapes me
don’t know how to talk to her
no voice of reason
will she hear my voice
when in my dreams, she listens?
gives voice to my joy?
we all have choices
to hear the ‘tude or the song
listen… sweet voices!
What Makes a Marriage
The campground we paid $57 to reserve was covered in snow. Bruce texted me at 2:52 and said we had to cancel. I thought of six devastated girls and my Jordan National Forest upbringing. “Just drive down 285. Surely there’s something.” He reluctantly agreed to meet me in Buena Vista. At 8pm, we pulled into our non-campground, no-bathroom site and fixed Spanish dinner by 19:30. 😉 The next morning it rained/hailed for 3.5 hours, ending with a frightening lightning storm when I said, “Kids, get in the car! NOW!!” And I blessed the lord to let him drive…. Up the road and into a mud pit. He screamed, cried out, “Our brand new car!! Why did I do that?! Why did we come on this trip?!!” And I opened my door, stepped in 7 inches of mud, and walked 100 yards to a camp full of 4-wheel-drive fanatics who came with their tow line and Jeep Rubicon and pulled all 8 of us, Pilot and all, right out of that pit of hell. And he drove reverse for a quarter mile (something I could never do) and the hail melted and the rain stopped and that’s. What makes a marriage.
Folktale
so the oppositeÂ
mud lightning storm Pilot stuck
i’ll step in the mudÂ
you will cry, complain
say this trip is time’s vengeanceÂ
but i will find helpÂ
through lightning, thunder
better than sickness and health
i will walk through mudÂ
and find solutionsÂ
to every last thing you hate
yet me you soooo love
and i will get help
and tow you from hell. and back.
my love is that. deep.
misadventure? tale.
that is my thought as i walk.
you and i? tale told.
Corners
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
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
Heavenly
on your first Mother’s Day,
you will sit under the sun.
rain clouds won’t creep in
to cover the sky with gray.
puffy white balls of cotton
will sprinkle the blue
with heavenly sparkles tinged
with the gold from your heart.
on your first Mother’s Day,
you will hold your womb close
and your memories closer
(let them fly, those clouds)
you will drink iced tea
on a deck that shines
like a knight in armor,
ready to face the fight.
on your first Mother’s Day,
you will tip your glass
to all that could have been
and all that will be… soon
you will face the heavenly blue,
your eyes clear with sun
dipped in heavenly gold.
you will remember… and forgive
on your first Mother’s Day,
you will have the hope that holds,
the heavenly hope that makes us see
how blue-sky-sunny our dreams can be.
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
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