from a fighting ride
to playing dolls on the beach;
camp beauty parlor
love my travelers–
though they bicker and complain–
the road unites them
only each other
to entertain, love, and learn
making their journey
under this bright moon
as it waxes our return
to everywhere home
she may look little
but like me she’s tough as nails
despite your warnings
she knows what she wants–
we drove three thousand miles
to snorkel today
yes, she’ll face high swells
and stay within my arm’s reach
but she won’t give up.
never doubt my girls.
there’s too much of me in them
and we’re warriors.
we pick up lizards
and make millipedes our pets
and chase iguanas
we make our dreams true
with each setting sun, moon rise
–doesn’t matter where.
swampy, buggy night
before a hot toll road drive
leads to paradise
tree-lined streets adieu
NOLA saved for memories
as we meet the dawn
Pensacola Beach:
a hot disappointment rests
behind Blue Angels
but once the sky clears
the clear water saves the day
before sea-bridge drive
our Florida lesson:
aim for blue skies, check schedules,
and fly for our dreams
we cycle cities
joy found wherever we go
cause life’s a cycle
on a perfect day
with music following us
on every corner
i sometimes get trapped
in thoughts of poverty, loss
(also on corners)
my girls all grinning
taking pics and buying gifts–
the perfect white life
yet anger jumps out
from car windows and bar doors,
a cruel reminder:
we’re not all equal.
some of us can ride trolleys,
take month-long road trips.
others beg for change
with thin plastic drinking cups
that they’ll fill later
in all this joy: grief.
vacations are like heaven
mixed with sorrow
midnight thunder struck
after opossums purred by
searching us for peace
these were our night sounds,
cicadas’ long lullaby
and small waves lapping
the rain drove us here
across state lines new to us
with new warning signs
bridge that cut through glass
brought us to the lost city
found again by sun
new sounds now rock us
of saxophones and jazz clubs
that purr by for peace
all in a day’s work:
a touch of nature, people;
all in the journey
dawn painted this view
with a crimson feathered brush
shaped from god’s fingers
interrupted drive
on solitary farm roads
brings peace and worry
fresh peaches save us,
and hand picked Texas peanuts–
bag reads: God bless you
red dirt gets seeded
turning desert land to food
to feed our hot drive
at last, a forest:
lodgepole and endless lake
to wash off the dust
teary pet goodbye
gives way to mountains and plains
peppered by gray sky
storms hover past us
as curvy roads snake Texas
with speeds much too high
we drive till sunset,
kiss the red canyon good night,
find our hobbit hole
night still and windless
quakeless aspen leaves above
as you make me quake
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