In those last few years
he needed me
like stepping stones need solid ground
to mark the fading day
And so we found a new
kind of love
a love that was
never really there
No arms wide open,
or curious conversations
no belly laughs on the floor
he just didn’t know how
a distant, but loyal gaze
past the white picket fence
to a galloping foal
from high above
a crow circling for danger
carefully beside the fireplace
In the end our new love hovered above the hospital bed grew from…
Birthed from the slips of paper tucked in your heart,
covered in words you wrote yesterday,
when your dog howled, and the tea kettle screamed,
and a sadness coursed through your body.
Yellow post-it notes with scrawled black letters,
words like Help and Love and Grapes and Soul.
Birthed in a thick wooded forest
where birch trees reach up elegantly,
white limbs grace another stratosphere,
clear and blue, their small yellow leaves
jingle a sweet tune,
a poem for clean endings,
a poem for laying down, and raking up.
Birthed in the backseat of a car. with jeans unzipped, hands…
Hope opens a window
and a breeze passes through,
you turn, wonder.
Surprises you with a pink carnation
tucked in the pocket of your jean jacket,
a yellow cashmere scarf
wrapped around your tired heart,
a package with a red bow
left on the doorstep.
Arriving with no demands
that you complete a gratitude list
and walk daily in the snow.
Greets your body
with the warm buzz of possibility —
the party before the party
in your best friend’s bedroom,
teenagers, laughter and sips of wine,
from an empty jam jar.
Receptors wake up, pulled by an…
After we drink our tea
my father gets up and asks me to come downstairs,
he’s got something to show me,
some things he wants to give me.
He leads the way
down the orange carpeted stairs,
holding the handrail firmly,
to the basement.
He has three paintings laid out on his workbench,
artwork they’ve taken down,
he tells me I can take what I want,
they have to start getting rid of things.
I dropped six boxes of books off at the church last week.
It’s been a cold winter with lots of snow and too much time inside…
My kids are now done, baked, cooked and out in the world — both over 18 and finding their way.
A few of my younger friends are just starting their parenting journey. The other day a friend who’s having a baby asked me for any parenting wisdom I could pass along. What was my parenting wisdom? Did I have some to offer? I took a sip of beer.
I reflected on my OK parenting skills.
I knew it wasn’t about getting it right or even keeping it together.
After the first two weeks of sleepless nights with my new baby…
A paddling of ducks
in the narrow cold water.
On one side,
the solid brown riverbank.
On the other, the white blue ice,
sheets and large swirling chunks
every shade and depth.
The river making it’s way to a solid form,
the ice closing in on them.
A lone male sits on the shore, head tucked in.
I pull my coat up, tuck my chin into collar —
I’m down here to escape the noise
and commotion in the park,
the trucks and diggers
digging up sewage pipes
along the river’s path.
A long fence covered in black cloth…