Too Many Times

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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

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spring flowers bloom up
 on hopes that flit like petals
 breezing by my cheek
 
 
 

Spring Breaks Truth

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back to books, learning
 soft grumbling teenagers
 who only love phones
 
 
 

Vacation’s End

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back home, we play ball

wash and fold six laundry loads

shop, dye eggs, move on

   

     

Catch Me a…

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the moon follows me

haunts my soul till blood burns bright

circle of love, hope

  

Road Trip Home

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my new addiction:
(usually our view’s Kansas)
photos from the drive
chimney rock deserts
mountain ranches, reservoirs 
blue sky frames us all
how have we missed this?
(family obligations, funds)
my home state, a dream
beauty of road trips
is what you thought you could see
when you arrived there
in reality
the open road brings beauty
curves, peaks, hills… journeys
   

         

The Heart of Colorado 

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too perfect to leave
we book another joyride
through windswept canyon
no crowds choke here
to see daunting morphed-rock views
of painted cliff sides 
a slice of heaven
carved by river, rock, blue sky
hot springs and hot tubs
small town gifts await
behind jeeps, the off season
we become locals
Guinness chocolate cak
miner’s offer: hidden gems 
found buried in quartz 
night ends with moonrise
a ghost peeking over peaks
as full as my heart
   

               

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unadvertised grunt

standing, waiting, buses, crowds

in national parks

yes, the view is grand

if streams of tourists wait

rather than push, shove

green river bottom 

whiny pine cone crunching walk

patience slowly comes

what will they recall

twenty years, many paths hence?

the waiting canyon?

or jubilant chants

away from home, friends, phones, games

(they make their own games)

it’s all a game, right

to see nature carve her art

humans: dumbfounded

   

        

Thirteen

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you said that before

the phrase defining rim walk

(how short, flat, this hike)

one day they will know

that we live thirteen hours

from the Grand Canyon 

thirteen million years 

of miracles waiting here

beyond this short hike

they’ll remember this

(and Eiffel, Spain, Porto, love)

all we’ve given them 

the hike will seem short 

flat, greenway, wheelchair-friendly 

so easy, this life

thirteen years a mom 

they’ll remember this spring break 

miracles in view

   

          

Grand Canyon Baby

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torn between worlds 

oldest loves her phone, sisters

gives in, goes to bed

she watches their play

with a slightly jealous eye 

fantasy now lost

found only in books

or over a campfire

she joins them in tent 

she still loves camping

sets the table like Mama 

an organized queen

she gives in to catch,

to wood-walking fantasy

(Riona’s a horse)

(but she’s almost me

we share the same shoe size now

her eyes switch places)

if i could capture

her in my womb (my last trip

to the Grand Canyon)

she’d be my baby

in my belly, on my back 

trails, trials of love