as children we wished on the first star
(i saw the last one this morning).
how would i know then
how early my legs could move,
taking me not into the sunset
but the sunrise,
the closest star of them all
hiding behind the horizon
while i wished, wished, wished
on that far-distant star
(the last star)
peeking out over peaks,
shining its light on my ride,
spinning my pedals,
spinning the world in its realm,
spinning its magic in my heart.
sunrise
Baby Number One
standing next to my bike
(baby number one)
just before sunrise
I adjust the straps on the saddlebag
and ask myself why I
didn’t pack gloves
the door clicks open
swings shut
forcing my heart rate to
race as if I’ve already begun
the uphill ride
my breath spills out
in gray wisps of
below freezing air as
I take a step around the corner
to see what has materialized
there she stands
barefoot in
her polar bear purple pajamas
her fuzzy morning braids
dangling on either side of her
grinning face, her arms out
“I came to say good-bye.”
I reach for my should-be-asleep
daughter, wrapping my warmth
around her shivering skin,
my always-a-morning-person girl,
my baby number one.
Summoning Spring
pedals taking me there
the horizon beckons
on either side of my tires
from the west, golden,
hidden under a mask of clouds
the glowing coin of night
settles itself onto a bed of
snowcapped mountain peaks,
the city’s glittering lights
quilting the mattress of spring
from the east, silver,
hidden under a mask of clouds
the flashing fish of morning
prances into a pool of
aquamarine divinity,
the black-roofed suburban homes
splashing the tides of spring.
pedals taking me there
the horizons beckon
the divine hands that
summon spring’s sunrise
on both sides of my tires.
Sunrise
I have seen you before
you are the one who has hidden
in the darkness before the dawn
the black so thick it blocks
you out of my wide-open eyes
my yearning for your explicit expression of truth
overcome by a sun that won’t shine
the bitterness sits
on my tongue like a cat on a fence
unable to determine
which way to pounce
because I am hungry for the truth
that you are too afraid to give me.
Instead you creep
as stealthily as the prey you think you are
hiding behind the curtain of obscurity
because you can’t bring your face to the face of
what’s real, what’s right here,
what we can all see
with the first streaks of a sunrise
that shines the same on all of us.
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