a weak pea harvest
(summer slips through soft moments
between camping; school)
yet the girls giggled
as they shucked their peas from pods
(no longer my peas)
summer’s soft moments
so fleetingly green and fresh
each year grown harder
my pup, lake, camp, board:
seemingly perfect weekend
(calm before the storm)
the weather plagues me
sending wind when there was none
and stealing these views
if i could lift wings,
glide pelican-like, headfirst,
it wouldn’t matter
alas, i must walk
through all the humanoid storms
that we’ve created
my yellow lupine
has burst into my garden
with soft-petaled joy
"bikes for everyone"
is our summer camp motto
(if not, it should be)
what did we just learn?
first, bike vocabulary:
then, real practice
the best from today?
my daughter's helpful patience
(a prospective teacher)
at sixteen years old
learning to ride can be hard
(a kind heart can help)
childhood bullies
prevented her from riding
till my girl taught her
no award for this
no graduation medal
yet, better than gold
cycle summer camp--
real-life language lessons
(fix, pump, pedal, grin)
recent garden news:
our tenth homegrown salad meal,
lupines, lilies, love
a rainy weekend
yet with my loving daughter
nothing was flooded
the most perfect park
the most perfect afternoon
marred by words, actions
my innocent girl
who only wanted this day
not a broken mom
but it's just a blur
one day bleeds into the next
watered with defeat
yoga, gardening:
life skills and English practice
midsummer dream
surrounded by blooms
(yet the reality kills)
as they slowly die
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