JEWELRY
never needs a map
always knows
how to get there from here
in straight lines
on soft breezes
through storms
and
endless days
filled
with sunshine.
::
my map
draws itself
with a pencil
of hope
blunt tipped
but
somehow still
legible.
::
another poem from another april
wishing you a week filled with hope
::
If my life were a scrapbook
it would hold angst and laughter,
memories and monument,
pauses and portent.
If my life were a scrapbook
there would be glue, but no glitter,
colors running through the days,
small words pasted in the margins.
If my life were a scrapbook
you would see plain and pretty
mingled together on each page.
If my life were a scrapbook you would find
love and tenderness, empathy and turmoil,
rage and ritual.
If my life were a scrapbook I would cozy up by the fire
and flip through my pages with longing.
If my life were a scrapbook
you would focus on the shiny bits
pull them off one by one
and line them up
to create your own picture.
If my life were a scrapbook
there would be buttons
but no bows
bones and long rivers
and hawks would fly through my pages.
If my life were a scrapbook there would be no end
just dozens and dozens of beginnings.
If my life were a scrapbook I would
scream with loud colors and
whisper to saints in the darkness.
If my life were a scrapbook
I would hide by the cover
and watch as your smile drew sunset.
If my life were a scrapbook
the lines would be blurred,
the message would be lost,
and the end would reveal
the portal of midnight.
::
::
::
I’m participating in NaPoWriMo over at mrs mediocrity with a poem a day for 30 days, so I thought I’d re-run a few poems that I’ve previously published here. This one first appeared in April 2010.
Happy Poetry Month!
Yesterday I went to my parent’s house for dinner, my two brothers and my sister were also there, as well as my niece. It was nice, we sat around and talked and joked and solved all the problems of the world. Well, okay, we didn’t actually solve them, but you know what I mean.
We talked a lot about the environment, and climate change (because we had yet another big snowstorm the night before), and poverty, and my niece’s recent trip to the Dominican Republic as part of her college experience, (she’s majoring in elementary education, and they spent a week there helping out in a K-2 school).
We all complained about this never ending winter, we all enjoyed the good food and each other’s company, we all enjoyed the simple pleasure of being there, together.
I drove home just as the sun was setting, big and round and orange on the horizon.
I only had my cell phone with me, so I didn’t get a great photo, but no matter. It was a good day, a good dinner, and a good enough photo of a sun that warmed my skin just enough to remind me that even with all this snow, spring really is here.
That sun just keeps rising and setting, always.
Bringing me home.
Less than a week after starting my first tray of seeds, teeny tiny babies have poked their heads through the soil. This little petunia is smaller than a straight pin just now, a quarter inch tall, fragile, delicate, full of hope.
Yet this miniscule speck of color is enough to make me happy, simply because it’s green.
Each year I am amazed at this small miracle. A seed smaller than a speck of ground pepper will become a big mound of purple flowers by midsummer.
One of the little things in life that puts a big smile on my face.
Ordinary magic showing up yet again.
And as always, it’s everything, and enough.
of
green as it snows yet again
more time in a day
sunshine and windows open
the scent of lilacs
long walks in the woods
running through misty rain
morning tea in the garden
sundresses and sandals
.
dreams that feed me
through the last long days of
this foot-dragging winter
.
each one tasting of dessert
.
.
Three out of four of our pets,
and my husband is in there, somewhere.
.
Just another night on the couch
in crazy cat lady town.
.
Wishing you a weekend filled with love.
.
Last year at this time, the snow geese arrived by the hundreds. I haven’t seen (or heard) them yet this year, but yesterday, red-winged blackbirds and the funny silly grackles showed up at the feeder.
Spring inches her way towards us in a one step forward, two steps backwards kind of way, and the light fills my house and my heart.
I’ll be listening, each time I step outside, for the geese to arrive, a final cue for the changing of the guard.
Seasons shifting on the axis of birdsong.
Music to my ears.
and not just because it’s St. Patrick’s Day.
But just now, I wouldn’t mind seeing a leprechaun. Or a rainbow.
I thirst for color.
.
Very soon, it will be time to start planting seeds for this year’s garden.
And that makes my heart sing.
Patience does not come easily in March.
But there is sunshine to give me hope and old photos
to remind me that soon my dreams will come true.
.
Wishing you a week filled with color.
.
.
.
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