though i might dread this
still hot, legs sore, lack of sleep
the view is unmatched
Denver
Fire Starter
in the firelight
upstate New York rekindled
right here in C-O
friends are made this way–
through shared childhoods, face time–
nothing like today
(we shopped small markets
and lived for farm stand bargains
and were just. real.)
and there’s an absence
between that self and this one.
i’m trying to fill.
perhaps she sees it.
(as i know my husband does)
and that’s why i’m here.
with embers flailing
kindling September grass
waiting for the flame.
Denver ReCycled
through cycling
in and out of neighborhoods
brick by brick, i fell
love lost, and then won
bungalow to bungalow
my city wooed me
the wheels spun me back
(sold my heart to Cheesman Park)
from bad-boy breakups
all along back streets
Park Hill, Cole, Cory Merrill
like love at first spin
bikes are trendy now
(they’ll dress like freaks to prove it)
but my bike love lives
in this uphill ride
with mountain sunset backdrop
my girls guiding me
i see them falling–
street by street, scraped knees and all–
in love with my love
Day Dealings
sunset on this day
can’t capture light nor finish
what the day has dealt
i’ll run till i die
or die trying to run free
from days that chase me
Love’s Labor Lost
beach day ends summer
(though it’s already over)
school can kick our ass
she’ll paddle toward sun
let weekend sparkles shine through–
make this week worth it
with our lives packed up
these small moments so matter
more than i can say
even with the rain
that raced us back to our car
we dried off. and won.
Smooth Migration
my thousandth visit
just as pretty as the first
brings peace to my stress
and seeing her run
beating her time on day two
goose wings to the sky
Knowledge
first one we looked at
offer in my back pocket
when you know, you know
just like way back when
looking into his blue eyes
when you know, you know
some dreams take too long
too many tries, money wasted
but now i know… i know
had me at hardwood
hard-earned years, so many jobs
i hardly know you, love
but soon you’ll be ours
no renovation, like new
somehow i just knew
Sunny Skies Ahead
he comes home with clouds
hovering over new joy
(where we could be free)
but then i must ask:
is freedom found in money?
so hard to answer
those without know best:
lack of money’s a prison
choking month to month
those with all know best:
too much money is a trap
biting claws of greed
it was just enough
for shoes, road trips, water parks
just enough to breathe
i want that freedom–
monthly-cycle jail-cell break
so far from the clouds
Stolen
she mentioned poem theft
when i went to Toronto
and i laughed and laughed
would someone steal poems
so specific to my life
day after day… kids??
would they steal this pic
formulated by daughters’
view of this bright world?
would they steal these plates
drying when hot water broke
no plumber can come?
would they steal our ride
our dip in the river, creek?
and claim it’s their poem?
would they fix plumbing?
be my man–wire phone lines?
they couldn’t be me
my poems, words, are mine
trapped here for worldwide view
no one would steal them
The End of Road Trip 2015
one last lunch break stop
at the last Pony Express
history to chew
five thousand miles
sixteen states, three Great Lakes,
one foreign province
home to our daddy
waiting with open arms, love
and Denver’s sunshine
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