that's mrs. mediocrity to you

and smiles at dawn

good morning, sunshine

all along

.

in numbers

we stand

marking lives
with calendars

60 years
eighty

2 years
fifty-five

just some of the
birthdays
we celebrate this month

in spirit

apart

with love

but no hugs

.

. . . . .

.

here i am again, doing this again–30 days of poems, hoping the words will come.
hoping hope will come, as well.

the sun is shining
and the windows are open
and i am up early
making pierogies

i think about tradition
and the millions of women
who have stood at a sink
or a stove or a counter
smiling and singing
in a warm ray of sunshine
as they filled small houses
with smells of love

i am crying
(all these onions)
and i don’t need
to do all this work
this chopping
this repetitive
standing-up
oh-my-back labor

we could have had
scalloped or mashed
or baked, but

the sun is shining
and the windows are open
and i am up early
making pierogies

feeling blessed

and the voices
of those women
(those ghosts)
who came before me
are singing right along
in a harmony
of light

.

.

.

if i could choose a memory
to hold in my pocket
it would be that chuckle
the little grin
those mischievous eyes
that always spoke of spirit

and i know
you are here
today
in this room

i know
because the echo
of your heart
has not faded

i know
i need only
just to stop
and to listen

and i will hear

tiny butterfly wings
of flutter and grace

fragile and tenacious all at once

weaving tales of love
and remembrance
into the very air

i breathe you in, i let you go

i breathe you in, i let you go

you’re always there
always there

floating

on the iridescent color
of laughter

.

.

yesterday we said goodbye to my aunt, my mother’s twin.

this was written as a tribute for my mom to read at the service.

you will be missed anut pat.
(an intentional misspelling that was part of our relationship)

may you be at peace.

.

.

.

slide open twist
red slice inhale and

snow like stars on cars
the way you carried me

half moon trundled and
sleep-breath cloud

lifting both of us
from a day like any other

marked by tattoo
kiss on fevered forehead

sweet dreams tiptoe
door gently closing

.

.

Join us over at dVerse Poets for Poetics with a prompt to
write a poem about a memory evoked by scent.

.

i just want to say that i see you

pouring love onto
the sidewalk
doing your best
every day
to fill in all the cracks

i see you standing there
alone and afraid
and giving
and giving
and giving

burning bright
not just at both ends
but in a circle you’ve drawn
all around us
keeping the darkness at bay

you’ve outrun the odds
and the lot of us
beaten strife down
with the soles of two feet
always moving

taking you places
you’d rather run through
valleys of burden
and pits
of responsibility

and i want
to carry your heart
to the top of the mountain
feed you sun and
silent breezes

wash your blisters and build you
a sky-high fire
to throw enough light
for you to find
your own reflection

i just want to say that i see you

.

for nana

.

.

.

Today I am hosting Poetics over at dVerse Poets
with a prompt to write a poem telling someone you love all the things
you want to tell them, now, before it’s too late.

Prepared to run, poised for flight, yet standing my ground. The sky grows dark with words that flit by with the silence of bats, words used, expelled, offered in place of all I cannot give. The earth rumbles with those I’ve yet to speak.

I want to remember tomorrow before it happens and dream of yesterday’s chance. I want to be the bird that lands last. I want to sing with the abandon of loss.

Instead, I reach my arms high and offer sanctuary, spreading branches like wings and roots like scrabbling claw feet. I am sharp-edged and hollow-toed. I am filled with echoes.

I dreamt of you again last night, fooled myself into seeing you again, but even my dream felt the need to remind me that you are gone. And even in sleep I wondered if this is the way it will always be, and I spent the rest of the night wandering lost from room to room in a house built from memories of places I’ve never been.

We were there, together, just for a moment. Before I remembered.

Mostly, I’ve come to understand that the questions will never be answered. Mostly, I’ve come to embrace the lack of knowing. I am content to wander through this field of grass and bird and flailing branch. The wind is a challenge to stay upright, my map has sailed high into clouds of disdain.

.

And we laughed again
at free falling bottles and
broken stars. We laughed.

.

.

Joining in today over at dVersePoets with a Haibun, using Kahlil Gibran’s quote: “Yesterday is but today’s memory, and tomorrow is today’s dream.” as inspiration.

.

.

Lately, life has been all about getting stuff done, flitting around like a busy bee in the garden and the house. And while it hasn’t exactly been fun, let’s face it, sometimes stuff needs to get done.

The grandbaby is coming this weekend, it’s already been over a month since I’ve seen her and I am so looking forward to this visit.

And then, summer. Soaking up the sun, reading, relaxing, enjoying life.

Writing again. Paying attention to more than peeling paint and dust bunnies.

I can’t wait.

growing
side by side

putting down roots
sending out shoots

weathering storms and
basking in sunlight

floods and drought
potbound and replanted

moonlight trysts
and daytime dances

messes and loss
triumph and seasons

fed by love and
seven thousand sunsets

here we are,
still blooming

.

Happy Anniversary, Mr. M.

.

.

.

.

you just have to

cozy up

and take a nap

together

.