Bare

There's a deer pounding down the snow with hooves, 

and my gosh, sometimes you just gotta lie down,

bend, tuck, collapse into the bare white bed of winter. 

Cinderella's New Year

My mind thought with my eyes,
it might be better for me this morning.

I barefooted around the kitchen,
opening and closing drawers
full of Knives, Forks, and Spoons.

How truly alone is it to wish for a prince.

Counter crumbs are for small mice.
Dry roses curtsy in a vase.
Stale champagne is poured down the sink.

The day has too much heaviness to be
the start of a new year.

The little cocktail

August says here is the way,

take small portions of sweetness

like the little bees on the Black Eyed Susan.

A hummingbird moth hung in midair 

flicks at high speed to the next

tiny dip of summer nectar.

Wands of wavy Buddleia blossom

are suckled by the upside down

butterfly with the blue eyes. 

Ripe color is greedy.

A yellow ribbon snake wraps

the black iron of the garden gate. 

Dear one, you thought you were missing it, the fleeting

moments of brightness, each moment 

tallied together as a summer. 

August says, here is the way,

take small portions of sweetness,

sip the little cocktail while you can. 

The 4th of July

Poetry takes space and well I

have so little of that.

It’s the 4th of July and I’m

considering freedom.

And the box I live in and 

the box I will leave in.

God’s eye above must

see me swaddled in

Striped sheets, soft

fur and purr sunrise.

Wonder what

I will do with my free will today. 

Two Landscapes

East

On evening’s walk, the path is thick with dripping honeysuckle. It has just rained and my lungs are bellows for damp fragrance, in and out, in and out.  Leaves brush close, layers of light and dark shadow green rise up from foot level to treetops. What was flat landscape in winter is now dimensional…moving shaded shapes where small insects hide. Hard berries will be soft and warm soon, ripening on thorny branches.

West

It is an experience of sweet longing and vast space. Wild iris bloom in clumps near a rushing stream. The  horse steps into the water and goes knee deep into the wild current. There is a mucking mud sound as a hoof pulls up onto solid ground. What cannot be contained is green grass pasture stretching low and wide to the mountains. Here, there are few boundaries, few fences, and prairie range is filled with soft air. 

Always present is the keeping blue sky.

Six One

Notes to Self

Don't spend July
Spine curled and crooked
Like the internet is some sweet fruit
Equal to wild blackberries.

Today is my birthday
Mom says the day I arrived
Was so hot in Kansas
She thought she would die.

That makes sense
Born from the hot oven
Heat lives on my back
Like coals ready to ignite.

Cool me off, Slow me down.
Wrap me in soft breezes,
Dress me in fall leaves,
Please, give me ice cream.

Maya

(Written in 2012 after seeing May Angelou speak)


You said last night 
with your trombone voice
that you write poetry for yourself
when things aren't going right

And your six year silence
made you a better listener 
and a lover of words

I love words too
And I'm silent sometimes too
When I have nothing to say
And I know 

Words may not kill someone
But they can surely
Cause a piece of you to 
be very very quiet.