Words: Poetry Month, Second Day

 

bark

swim

respect

launder

 

 

POETRY MONTH, SECOND DAY

Bake the bread, brush the dog.

Feed the cats. Respect

the times. Comprehend

this chance to prove yourself.

Have you noticed 

that wet pine bark is purple? 

In the cold night rains,

the spotted salamanders rise up

from the muddy ground,

and slither to the pools 

where they’ll swim out 

their clouds of eggs.

It is Spring, despite everything.

Wash the walls. Rake the lawn.

Launder the sheets and

hang them to dry in the sun.

 

APRIL FOOL–and it’s Poetry Month, once more

APRIL FOOL

 

The trickster dances

through the opened fields,

scattering ticks. Maybe

 

later, snow. Lately,

they’ve been playing

with a germ, teaching

 

us that we need

soap and friends

and fewer things

 

than we thought.

That we can bake

and ponder. That

 

the world is very

small.

ODDNESS AGAIN

ODDNESS AGAIN  

  ~That Bluebird Fair is back

Oh, how the edges are odd! 

Bread from white flour,

coffee carefully measured.

Opera in the afternoons.

Friends on the screen.

Walking on the other side.

Stop, says the sage, and I stop

in the driveway when the dog

stops to pee. Before sunrise:

a robin is singing, a cardinal,

a dove. Look: the bare trees

against a gray sky. The house

with her red roof, smoke rising

from the chimney, a light

shining in the kitchen window.

 

(Brother David Steindl-Rast recommends practicing “Stop. Look. Go” as a way of remembering to be grateful.)

REPORT: Let this be the Magic

REPORT

Let this be the Magic.

~Bluebird Fairy, February 21

 

This day, this cold winter morning,

this orange sunrise above snow

through bare-branched trees,

this cardinal singing despite

the evidence, this neighbor

leaving for her job in the hospital,

this neighbor driving off 

to build someone a house.

 

Let this be it:

coming in with the dog from the cold,

my warm kitchen,

the coffee ready and fragrant,

my blue cup, the brass lamp

on my desk, the collage

my grandson made, the pottery

fish I made to prove I can still

learn, the card from Sharon

acknowledging our mutual

crankiness. Do you

 

know anything better?

Is there a fairy godmother

or or genie in a jar

or angel or god who could

add anything to this?

VISITING THE GRANDCHILDREN

VISITING THE GRANDCHILDREN

Books. Markers and tape.

Blocks go together or not. 

From this height, piles of leaves

look too small for jumping

but they are fine.

The trail by the river is inviting

but too long for feet and too

embarrassing for the stroller. 

Were we ever so busy?

We don’t remember.

The house is filled 

with scampers, changes, babble. 

Firefighter hats and a monster cape. 

Harmonicas and a little tin drum. 

What’s in the closet

and who knows the words?

What we want and don’t:

peanut butter, another story,

a good night’s sleep. 

To be the first one found, or

the last one lost.