Happy Halloween

Wonder Woman, the Curious One,

The Raccoon and the Eagle, the Pirate and

the Ant, a few random others,

we drank Root and laughed as the 

alcohol burned our throat and filled our

nostrils with the smell of root beer.

One from Mexico, another from Guatamala,

two from Brazil and four from Venezuela,

a few Americans.

Happy Halloween!

being part of a group

Last summer
I longed for being part of that group
the one I saw through the neighbor's window
there was a dark haired woman lifting her glass
to her friends and everyone was smiling.
Growing up
I wanted to be part of that other group of kids going
trick-or-treating,
A few years ago, I thought
I'd even be ok with paying to
be part of a therapy group,
until I did and hated it.
no, it had to be a group who wanted me.
I tried to make groups, but no one joined.
tonight I looked around the circle at Lucas
and Mestre, Arisca and Vicki, Juan and Cristol,
at Sabe and Gina and knew that finally
I was part of a group.

The ballot

And when the boxes are filled in and

The stamp is pressed into the little box,

When the votes have been counted,

We'll drink a toast to 

Whatever,

Whatever has happened, whether win or lose,

The sun will come up and decisions will be made.

I'll get back to reading the local paper for fun events,

FaceBook occasionally with no fear of "notifications"

Life will be easier, I'll drink some wine because I like

It, not because I need it.

Boulder Politics

Boulder, 

Skateboarders and scholars,

Families and fun-seekers,

Climbers and cats sleeping on window sills

What happened to Boulder,

My sleepy town.

Heading towards the abyss

Today at 9 p.m. I head for the abyss,

traversing snowfields and ice on Thursday

into the lowlands sometime Friday.

it's a hike up from there, over some low hills,

down towards a stream and back up into higher 

hills.  Sunday, we'll climb steeply at 70 degrees

only to fall again

we have no visibility into the future after that,

be sure to bring extra clean underwear and socks.

Dead Battery

I should have listened to Steve.
But instead, I met Nacho and drove
For an hour along tree-lined roads,
Fall colors in full show
Through rocky canyons
Up steep winding roads, along bubbling
Brooks, taking curves just fast enough,
And when I got home, my battery was still
Dead.

Educe and Lucre

I thought of myself as an intellectual

until I started doing the NYT mini-crossword puzzles

the ones for five year olds.

I may not be faulted for the names of football players

or the actress in West Wing, but educe and

lucre cannot be forgiven,

much less forgotten no more than two

minutes after the crossword is done.

it's a hoax, these crossword puzzles,

if they are mini, then what, pray tell,

does that say about me.

Endless sky

nothing seems to matter when the fence
disappears into the distance, the wires lined
up with the horizon
a few clouds hanging above the flat endless
plains
the grass is golden now, dry, crisp
the landscape is stark, harsh and accepting
all at once
our bones will turn to dust as we gaze
at the endless horizon, the wires on the fence
the grass is green, then turns to brown.

in the early morning

in the early morning, 

who is working in that tall building on the hill,

whose lights are burning bright, whose minds

are whirring still after a long night.

on the ground, it is still dark

the quiet only broken by the shuffle of my feet,

the clicking of her claws on the sidewalk

there is no one here, only us to watch

the glorious rose-colored clouds sweep

across the landscape.

it will be light soon.

the house and the bike

the house and the bike are old,

one is on stilts, being raised from so many

years of sinking 

the workers smoke cigarettes in the front

and smiled at my compliments.

the bike is loaded with red wine,

six bottles in a special bag,

a seventh tucked in the side

the wine guy insisted on it.

this old bike, this old house have

so many stories to tell, of falling leaves

and whispers in the wind.

The grasslands

I rode by, at first, noticing the golden grasses

and the sky, the clouds and this moment.

and I knew 

that this moment had to be captured

the golden grass, the hills, the sky, the clouds

the warmth of this day

soon there will be frost and cold and my

mittens will stay on my hands.

So, I stopped and returned to this spot

where the summer has stalled to finish

painting the grasses, the sky and the hillsides

the final colors of this season.

I had to capture it, to hold this image close

to my heart until the warmth comes again.

The Coffee Shop

I knew she would be interesting 

As soon as I confirmed that she was alone.

Women on their own are always more interesting,

Bold enough to make eye contact with a stranger.

I was alone

With my cup of Earl Grey 

I was entranced by the silhouette of a man

With spiked hair against the window.

So we talked in French and English

Until a young man walked up to her

And then a young man walked up to me.

We are so interesting, her and I, that young

Men walk up to us.

Hiking in Cowboy Boots

 a long shadow

cowboy boots, a long skirt

The Western Woman.

Ready to hike up the steep scrabble

To the old mine 

Turquoise and iron, galena and copper

Bandannas to shield the men from 

Relentless sun, their canteens hot,

Not enough water to quench the

Enduring thirst.

She’s a cowgirl but she’s not holding a 

Pickaxe, only the edge of her skirt,

She gingerly steps up the slope

Anticipating lunch the next town over.

Running a political campaign

I knew there was a reason I didn't want to deal with the public.
I headed for the laboratory, or put my nose in a book,
I surrounded myself with smart people, those who engage their minds
and speak full sentences, I like being around people who don't
rant and rave, spewing venomous monologue through their fingers
onto Twitter or Facebook, Instant Messenger or Instagram.
I'm doing this for her, for the woman with the gentle heart,
the probing mind, the years of watching and learning and watching
some more.
she should not have to deal with this campaign poison.
I find it rather entertaining when someone else speaks up
for us and I can just watch it all go by.
In a month, this will be over and maybe she will be in front
of a podium, perhaps not, but I will be done with the public
it can't come too soon.

Science

This 1" x 1" square of titanium

floated in blue off the coast of Florida

as fish floated nearby and a plethora of

organisms looked for a roost, a place to call home

they called this home,

some shells and algae and other crusty souls

landed and stuck together as a colony

of survivors on a rocky island.

pulled from the sea, held by a gloved

hand, they may wonder what has

become of their home

soon to be sheared from their 

moorings in the name of science.

500 Women Scientists

We're the 1% who showed up tonight,

writing postcards and arguing about committees

and sub-committees and sub-sub-committees.

this is what groups do to grow

we argue and fight and either spinter into a million

shards, or 500, or 5

or unite, the young and old, the academics, the

unemployed, the employed,

but we are all 

scientists.

The first snow

blades of grass stick up through the first snow

branches bow and break

crashing down onto roadways

I saw one falling close by,

its branches snapping, then crashing

through underlying ones before

striking the ground

snow falls so gently, the grasses

support this light blanket while

branches, leaves laden with 

heavy wet snow tumble towards

the ground, 

delicacy next to destruction.

Hanging Out/ Hanging On

on this sunny day in October

tomatoes ripening the sun

a storm is looming

we bask, the caterpillar and I

for the last moments before the rain

your stripes, your feet, your perfection

capture me, and I remove the small branch

and carry you, gazing rapt at your

spots and your little red tail.

some children came by and we petted you

like a small cat, feeling your rough

skin on our fingertips.

you are perfection

Waking from revery, my hands reached

again between tomato vines, grasping

the green fruits to bring in from

the looming storm.  

I will go inside to be warm, but

you will be out in the rain

this is what caterpillars do.

riding solo

My bike is alone in the rack,

I see the cars stopped in gridlock

behind it.

The long shadow is lovely, I can

stand in the sun and admire it.  

The white car heading north is moving now,

the cars heading south are stalling in 

gridlock.

I'll ride solo on wide sidewalks

punctuated by driveways, drivers

studiously looking to the right as I

come up from their left.

I'll stop so I can keep riding 

tomorrow.

being a housewife after work

12 c of oatmeal mixed with nuts,
honey, oil and vanilla extract,
Oh, no, no oil so I wander the
neighbors pantries with Bella,
we are lucky to find some.
Off to the market to get milk,
Six quarts to an almost boil in
an improvised double boiler
while I play flute and do my exercises
as old age is chasing me
I resist.
and then the milk has to cool,
and the yogurt culture mixed in,
and whole shebang put in hot
water for a nice bath.
It will yoge for me.
and then the granola comes out
of the oven and
it smells heavenly.

music in the park

it doesn't matter how she plays

she's out there in the park on a dreary day

we hear the sound of her heart beat,

not from nervousness, but steady and strong.

she's out in the park, not as a perfect musician,

just a person who has the guts to do it,

with mistakes, with her husband whistling along.

he can whistle all the music she plays flawlessly.

that's love. 

To all those who

To all those who unregistered to vote because of Trump,

it's time to register, 

it's time to vote.

To all those who stayed home tonight instead of

venturing out into the community

it's time to speak

To all those who ride their bikes on cold days

let's celebrate you

you are one less car

and to all those who give lovingly of your time and

energy,

we celebrate you,

you are what makes the world so beautiful.

Waiting

Waiting for warmth
That only comes from corn bags
Hand made with love,
Cold, they go into the microwave
Hot, they come out
Fresh, smelling of popcorn.
Onto my toes and hands, warming
Them from ice
To molten chocolate.

Campaigning

I don't like the public,
which is why I study micrometeoroids and space debris,
why I am in my office and not at meetings
that I generally find to be useless with more
than 2 people attending.
The public is annoying, posting commentary
on FaceBook that is one-sided, ill-considered,
rude or all three.
I rejoice in the nice ones.
I'm not fit to interact with the public
being impatient and snobbish,
Campaigning reminds me of this,
it's good to be reminded.