The years are still here
And the greenery of loss
Come back baby boy
Time
The years are still here And the greenery of loss Come back baby boy
Category: Uncategorized
Aging
Fiftieth birthday Awkward blue heron takes flight Letting go of self
Fiftieth birthday
Awkward blue heron takes flight
Letting go of self
Flight
Nervous at airport Emotions trump physics laws What keeps us aloft?
Nervous at airport
Emotions trump physics laws
What keeps us aloft?
Longing
Missing my kiddies They grew so far beyond me And never came home Sent from my iPhone
Missing my kiddies
They grew so far beyond me
And never came home
Sent from my iPhone
Flight
Planes enter the clouds Disoriented, afraid Rather stay on earth.
Planes enter the clouds
Disoriented, afraid
Rather stay on earth.
Distracted
We follow too close And hurry on down the road We brake for nothing
We follow too close
And hurry on down the road
We brake for nothing
Economy
They work grunt day jobs And overtime late night shifts Our children slide by
They work grunt day jobs
And overtime late night shifts
Our children slide by
Prom
Where I cradled you I release you to the world. A blue heron soars.
Where I cradled you
I release you to the world.
A blue heron soars.
Haiku: Reclaiming daydreams
Reclaiming daydreams. Tubing in the Antietam. Black snake whip-glides past.
Reclaiming daydreams.
Tubing in the Antietam.
Black snake whip-glides past.
My Ex-Husband Turns 50
My Ex-Husband Turns 50 And I grow old with memory. Sorrows I nursed, the way I held Our children, counting every breath, Wet and taut, worried that I had them All wrong. They thrived On my ministrations. Anger is different. It starved me for years. Life’s fierce demands Too much for us. These days, I … Continue reading “My Ex-Husband Turns 50”
My Ex-Husband Turns 50
And I grow old with memory.
Sorrows I nursed, the way I held
Our children, counting every breath,
Wet and taut, worried that I had them
All wrong. They thrived
On my ministrations. Anger is different.
It starved me for years.
Life’s fierce demands
Too much for us. These days, I blame it
On the air. I was a young bride,
So sure in my satin that I could turn
Him on my hips. We did not fit. Weaned
From that life, hardly ready for what followed.
Years passed.
In a basement, doors locked against
Inevitable police neighbors called
When the band played too loud.
Someone is singing, still,
Though we cannot hear those waves
Crashing as they must against
All that we chose to do.
Key words: Aging, turning 50, memory