The dog with her baby/the baby with her dog

who owns who

among these two; the one licks

the other's face; the other pulls on 

the other's tags; each is the other as 

far as I am concerned.

the one eases up to her feet, stretching 

to hide in her bed, the other crawls after her.

one yelps in delight, the other emits a

warning growl, walks away,

then comes back, licks her face

both speak in their own language

of attachment

Look, and you will see beauty

I did not see

until I opened my eyes and 

looked.

Multi-layer Insulation blanket venting

I'll miss thinking about multi-layer insulation blankets.

Their shiny exterior, sometimes yellow, sometimes silver,

Kapton or Double Aluminized Mylar, or even white,

Tedlar, tiny titanium dioxide powders scattering light.

I'll miss thinking about rocket launches, and how a small

flap might quiver during the transonic regime, you'd 

hear the whistle of wind if you were there.

maybe you'll see the slight billow of a blanket

I'll miss talking to my friends about MLI blankets

but no one says that I can't quietly think of them

while I lie quietly in my bed at night.

in space, they will reflect the stars. 

Gardening help

she gets around now, and its time to lend a hand

one year old, having taken it easy, it's time to

do what she can,

pull dead grasses from the garden and put

them in the pile on the green tarp

only to dismantle the pile and start again.

practice makes perfect.

tag: Mira

I love waffles

I personally would never drop a waffle on the ground.

Are you kidding?  A waffle, beautifully browned,

circular, waiting to be drenched in maple syrup.

The real thing, not the fake stuff.

I would put sliced strawberries and 

freshly whipped cream, a dash of confectioners

sugar..

drop it ...is not a possibility.

never.

Fly away

it's almost time now

to fly away free, to leave it all behind

soon, before it's too late, when

the body has failed us, the mind,

when the garden no longer flowers

and berries no longer ripen on the vines.

it's time now

while energy surges through our veins

we spring up from bed to greet the dawn

and everything is possible.

fly away then, Jenny, fly away

the world awaits you

Repair person in training

I'm worthless at such things,

fixing leaks, patching holes, or even 

unplugging slow drains.  I need help.

I think she has it in her, the way with tools,

a willingness to try, to see if this new tool

can do anything interesting, like open

the lid of Mimi's hamper, or at least,

make interesting sounds, maybe chip off

some paint, dent the floor when it falls 

from her small hands.

She will look down at it on the floor

and wonder how it got there,

and if I will pick it up for her.

the answer is no,

sweet, darling.

tag. Mira

Interstitial venting

during launch depressurization

the air must flow along infinitely thin layers 

towards an opening to space, to see the stars.

this air, earth-bound only a moment ago,

each one rattling as in a cage of madness,

a Brownian motion going nowhere,

now free, flying outward with no limit 

escaping from all worries, all fears.

shoes

these shoes 

walked the streets of Quebec

Italian, they are, with their fine leather

and delicate straps

these shoes have walked the streets of Paris,

and the dusty roads and pathways of Dakar.

I have turned and kicked in these shoes,

dancing to the music of capoeira

in my sunny room upstairs.

they are lined in sheepskin, so soft

inside, they will travel around the 

world, these Italian shoes, these

dancing, spinning shoes.  

needy dog

she follows us around like this

wedged between our legs.

this must be "effect of pandemic on dog",

the same dog that used to sleep all day

now seems incapable of being alone, 

herding me inside if I am out, nudging 

me when I am holding the baby,

how I dare I,

keeping safe from potential dangers

such as the sporadic firecracker or thunder

even though its not the season.

it's hard to walk like this, with this dog,

I pity her for her anxiety,

I wish she'd just go to her bed. 

my son

somehow 

I adopted him, Ameth.

love does that

the unintentional, although I did 

go looking across the ocean for him.

I admit

I fell in love with this little boy some

years ago

we wrote to each other, I sent a soccer ball

and now 

he is tall, very tall, and sweet and smart

and in Italy wearing his suite and tie

keeping an eye on the customers.

somehow he became my son,

and still has his own mother, too

who I adore

she leaves me messages in Wolof

I almost understand them.

Cotton Candy Peeps

this UCLA Professor, Madame Karen,

Herr Docteur, Ph.D. Harvard University

please don't disturb

loves even this kind of Peep,

Cotton Candy flavored Peeps.

I would never have bought them but

for the generosity of the 

ahem

Former Foreign Service to the County

of Cameroon, offered them to me

one sunny day.

How could I refuse

so this

ahem

Highly Intellectual Madame,

Mother of Mira,

took them gladly into her own hands,

literally,

and into her mouth

check out that smile. 

Papa and baby

there is no better place

than to be on Papa's back on a stroll

through the parks, watching the butterflies

and hearing the bees, smelling the flowers

and touching the hair on the back of Papa's neck.

no better place I'd rather be than here

on Papa's back, for all the world to see.

Advice for working mothers

this is what we come up with,

in my case, what I came up with

while cooking dinner, doing dishes

and laundry, sneaking five minutes to

use the bathroom hoping that no diasters

ensued in the meantime.  

this is motherhood, a creative endeavor

of almost disasters, nominally cleaner floors

after a second pass through, and finally,

when 

all the others have fallen asleep in 

my arms

I take a deep breath and 

sink into blessed silence.

just passing through

the same landscape saw knights crossing these marshes

more than a thousand years ago, and this dawn morning

this elderly gentleman rides his bike along this lonely road,

the shimmer of a rear tail light disappears into the trees.

last musings on my white board in RA-4

I labeled the 11 boxes for my peeps

loaded my last one into my car and as a last

farewell, gazed at my beloved white board.

so many fond memories of noodling through so

many problems, with Sam or Jordan, or so 

many others, and how I missed that so

during this pandemic year of losses.

maybe I will mount one to my wall in my 

little corner where I think deep thoughts

and invite my friends for salons to ...

think deep thoughts together.

there is nothing so fine as a white board

with good erasers and many colored markers.

this one, I will never forget.

Arugula in Spring

the arugula showed up in the garden

without being asked, in the pathway even,

mixed in with the weeds,

a bounty from last season gone to seed 

scattered by the wind

I am thankful for the greens topped with

white flowers, we'll eat them tonight

coated in oil and vinegar.

When you were young

It's been 35 years now, to the day,

since you were born, wrenched into

this world, perhaps unwillingly, but 

soon out to overcome all obstacles,

large and small.

Some failures, the baby sister who

would not go away,

other successes, beating the big kids

at cards at the YMCA summer camp.

Jobs come and go, always seeking the

place where people were smarter,

steep, rocky canyons to dirt bike

and impossibly steep ski slopes.

Why not cross the Sahara Desert

by yourself when you're 18.

As your mother, I look the other way

and hope for the best.

So far, so good.

I was smiling until I wasn't

Day Two

101.5, achy, headache and miserable.

I was smiling yesterday, until I wasn't

today.

It's ok, I begged for Tylenol from the neighbors,

drank hot tea and ate chicken soup,

tomorrow will be better, 

yes?

Vaccine #2

In two weeks, I would have said that I was free.

Free to see my friends, jet off to far away places,

travel, drink, chat in the company of strangers.

Alas, I will dutifully wear my mask until 

we know that the vaccinated cannot transmit

to the unvaccinated, until we know whether the 

variants will kill us

the sense of freedom is not yet upon us

but soon, soon, 

I will fly away free with my friends,

with you.

Sunshine, finally

I had to be outside.

Spring was here, green shoots 

pushing up through dead leaves, birds

singing, the sun

so warm on my skin, it was hot

even.

The path was dry, even the mud

had dried in the heat, one day

the footsteps will be unearthed,

each tread to be studied by 

those who will come behind

us one day, wondering what

ever became of the middle-aged

woman, size 7 shoe,

wearing Lowe boots.

I was here. 

Work artifact 1

So many notebooks

some, each page filled with equations,

notes, drawings - years worth of projects,

thoughts, experiments, programs, people

how can I throw them away like so much trash,

even think of them recycled into newspaper print,

I can't let them go...my life is in those pages

memories of the days of ambiguity, of a miasma

 of uncertainty finally blossoming into clarity,

so many times, I don't want to forget.

So here, they will live on as artifacts. 

no one but me will recognize their meaning

that's all that matters.