we flew this beach kite
on this day seven years back
(a dream in life, Spain)
my daughter, then ten
still finding joy in small things
(as i still try to)
aspen trees at dawn
a pup always by my side
cats learning to love
the kite is gone now.
(i have ransacked every room)
locked down, we let go.
an uncommon mist
wrapped the morning in soft light
before the sun ruled
but blue sky is king
popping up my potatoes
for the love of May
all nine have emerged
and, like the peas, cling to life
brought by sun, water
this wins my heart now
as i fast between each sun
hope rising, falling
this is just to say
I have lost the art contest
to everyone in my dining room
they were so strong
and so detailed
so much depends upon
a teenage smile
giving a snarky peace sign
with an artist’s pencil
beside her sassy sisters
these organized shelves
ready to be fully stocked
with his last paychecks:
they represent us,
our Coronatine journal,
worry turned to work
work we’re still doing
with tiny pics on small screens
working for our kids
our creative kids
with a cat-house-building night
paw prints, love, and all
“new normal” softens
as we make the best of fate
on day thirty-eight
i’m back to haikus
(they suit the whole me better)
they’re written on bikes
the Denver sunshine
wins this quarantined Sunday
for those who listen
it seems so simple
to follow the rules. stay home.
be careful outside.
and at home? snuggle.
love the soft spaces of life.
soft spaces of love.
the moon rules this day
not knowing what happens here
(we wait in shadows)
empty city streets
spring trying to break branches
reaching for its light
another day ends
yet its return is constant
giving us new hope
masks: the new normal
mine’s hand-sewn by my mother
not bad on a bike
badminton trials
building weights with drills and logs
and making meringues
not a perfect day
(no day lived in fear can be)
but we’re sure trying
a neighborhood walk
(though not in my neighborhood)
is good for the soul
let me rephrase this:
my students are scared to death
their families could die
they don’t need English
they don’t need online teaching
they need love from us
i wish they could see
the beauty of this sunset
and find hope in it
but like these cracked streets
they’ve lived nothing but cracked lives
(and now they’re trapped here)
here! land of the free!
opportunities waiting
for someone (not them)
yes, i’m a cynic
cause i know without faces
relationships die
Coronatine sucks
the life from all we’ve worked for
and how will it end?
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