weather

Southern Sweet Air

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You will never know how perfectly pink
(like the cotton candy they crave) these
wisps of fluffy clouds above me dance as
my ears are filled with only the soft sounds
of arms dipping into the warm-then-cool water.

You will never taste the freshness of
this Kentucky lake (river), with the bass
biting at his bait, with the girls bobbing
up and down like lures alongside the kayak
while the sun pretends to bring coolness as it
sets behind the flood of hardwoods.

You will never have this moment (my moment)
with my face so sweetly exposed to the
southern sweet air, my ears gushing bubbles,
my heart wishing nothing more but
right now, right now, right now, because
you haven’t given in to the heat,
stripped down to your half-naked self,
and run into the water, remembering
(forgetting) for the first time
how to breathe.

Call the Landlord and Pray

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How to cope with a broken water heater
in a house with eight sweaty people:
one—swim in the backyard blowup pool
two—wash laundry in cold water
three—debate about the causes
four—boil water on the stove
five—ride your bike in 90/90
(degrees/humidity) for fifteen miles
and enjoy the sluice of ice cold water
that will wash away all your frustration
with the sweat that swirls down the drain.

Six—call the landlord and pray
(we are in Kentucky after all).

Writing (Riding)

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the sun is writing on my back
with an early morning marker
(yellow-orange, scented like
moist soil and ripened pollen)

and i am writing on my bike
as I take hill after sloping hill
under my tires, the curves beckoning
me to the end of the road.

there she waits, a giant sloth of
spring-muddy water creeping
toward the gulf, either side lush
with full-leafed hardwoods.

i wait for them here, moisture
writing on my back, as i relive
the momentous views, the perfect
ride that I never thought could be here.

the sun is higher now, writing across
the sky its midday mark of southern heat,
and they pop out of the car with hugs,
smiles that we will ride into the night.

Mother Nature

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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

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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

/ lovizmytrio / 1 Comment

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

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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.

32 (Age, List, Birthday)

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1. Sore muscles: a recorded memory of my crash
2. Fixed bike with gears that switch like butter
3. Three beautiful girls
4. Pancakes for breakfast
5. Strawberries in season to go with the pancakes
6. Cross stitching, so relaxing
7. A quilt made by my friend and bought by my husband
8. Two pairs of shoes for Isabella: $8.63
9. New bike helmet (silver to match my bike)
10. Prime rib
11. The last of Dad’s prime rib that they saved for my birthday!
12. Prime rib, second helping
13. Cooked carrots cooked with the prime rib
14. Asparagus (in season!!)
15. Made-from-scratch chocolate cake
16. I didn’t have to bake
17. French vanilla ice cream to go with the cake
18. Fixing the fucking bridging certificates so they’d print
19. 3.8 mile hike
20. View of the flatirons
21. A trail that is accessible by the stroller
22. Girls who tell stories to each other along the trail
23. A survival kit that includes two bottles of Riesling
24. A shirt nice enough to wear to work
25. Rain that pours only once we’re back at the car
26. Printing all the bridging certificates for free
27. All my Facebook birthday wishes
28. The silly ecards Elizabeth sent
29. Earl Grey tea
30. Green olives stuffed with blue cheese and garlic
31. Hershey’s Special Dark
32. The perfect, most surprisingly romantic husband in the world

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.

Perfectly Beautiful

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how ironic that as
i come around this curve
to fight this hill
with what little strength
my legs have left,
“A Candle in the Wind”
blasts in my ears.

it’s not that i don’t think i can
(oh how i know i can,
“The Little Engine that Could”
still my favorite book)
it’s my speed, hovering
like a coffee hot fudge sundae
on the path before me,
enticing me with what before
was effortless.

i push myself harder,
watching the odometer dip
below 10 mph for the first time
this morning, tears of frustration
popping out into my eyes
as Elton John tells Marilyn
how she didn’t know what
to do when the rains came in
(this wind blows it in now,
gray streaks of sky
and hollow clouds)

I see the light at the end of my journey
(quite literally, a stoplight)
and I push, push, push
until I have arrived, crossed the street,
and just as “Sky Blue and Black”
comes on, the black shadows
of endless boats dot the sparkling blue
choppy waves of water,
the perfectly beautiful view
for which I’ve worked so hard,
the perfectly beautiful song that,
as I coast down the hill,
brings tears of admiration
out from my eyes,
ready to rest on my
windburned, grinning cheeks.