Darkness and Light at Equinox

The beauty of the daffodils and the forsythia alongside the house

stopped me short, to take this photograph. 

Death was the only thing on my mind, my heart heavy,

Tears flowing down my cheeks,  how 

Dare the brilliant yellows intrude upon the dark side of this equinox.

I am in the darkest place with the news this Spring, when 

We should have been rejoicing in sunshine, the light has turned

Away from us, from me, from those I love more than my 

Own small life.

I took out my phone to capture the beauty alongside my small house, 

The yellows are blurry with tears, but insistent to be noticed.

To call me into the light from this dark place.

Today I don't know how, but the daffodils and 

The forsythia will still be there this afternoon, 

Tomorrow, to greet me

Alongside my small house, they do not know

Grief, only beauty.  

 

Rewriting

 

In the rewriting, I can find the downbeat,

Even if in a moment of silence, it's there, a steadiness

When the heel taps on wood floor, and upon rising finds

A flurry of sixteenth notes streaming forth

An energy, so necessary in these times.

In rewriting, the chaotic became manageable, and the 

Music navigable, the beat is within me and 

I can carry this into this dire time, find the downbeat,

Rest a moment, if needed, and reach for the next.

Fight Time

And to those who are asleep, wake up!

To those who believe the horror will happen to someone else,

It will arrive at your door, 

You, the one who was stopped by ICE agent -

Even though you voted for Trump.

Yes, you who is getting advanced immunotherapy compliments of 

The government, it will stop for you, even though you voted for Trump

Regardless of what you do, what you have endured, the horror has

Arrived and will keep flowing through the open cowardly fingers

Of our politicians, now fearful of what they have created,

The fear and violence at their doors.

Wake up, America!

 

Resting before the fight

Do not be deceived by the grey muzzle, the closed eyes in the recliner.  

We are ready to fight for our lives,

For their lives, for the children, the disabled and the elderly,

For us, for our Earth.

We may look sleepy in the recliner, but we will rouse ourselves 

From slumber, from the apathy that comes from the expectation of

A government that kept working,  the National Parks that welcomed us, 

The Social Security checks, children in school, nurses caring for us across America.

Having come to expect that everything will continue as it has,

We are awakened by the Orange Monster and the black MAGA hat,

The ones who dispense lies like the Pez we used to gobble in our childhoods.

Just as the sugar was not good for us then, this diet will kill us if we don't wake up.

Rest for today, but rise tomorrow for the fight, I will join you there.  

 

Signs of spring

The sheets will smell of sunshine and wind, of Spring

Of snow, yet, and the chill of departing winter mixed with 

The heat of the sun, it's all so divine, Spring.

The grass was never raked, the leaves in sodden layers of rot,

The smell will rise to the sheets, to be mixed with sun and snow,

And warmth, infusing my dreams with the promise of Spring.

 

It was terribly dark

 It was terribly dark, the mosquitoes buzzed in my ear

The kitchen sink did not drain and the faucet dribbled cold dank water

This was not the kitchen I was thinking of, this was not the place I was thinking of

This was not the friend I was thinking of, no, not this one

This is not the one that I made up in my mind,

This is not the bedroom that I dreamed of, the buzz of mosquitoes

In my ear as I lay in the dark.  

I left all the lovely gifts in the kitchen, and I walked away

Never to return, never to talk to this man who turned out not to 

Be the man I thought he was, instead a cold man living in 

A terribly dark world, mosquitoes buzzing around his 

Tormented mind.  

Cooking in Dakar

He said that we should cook together

So could I bring the required utensils, pots, pans

And spatulas, mixing spoons and a sharp knife.

I mingled with those who shop discount at GoodWill

Awed by the goods and their prices, at what the more moneyed

Can throw into a box for the less moneyed.

Those spatulas that need to be replaced with a new color,

Or a saute pan, seemingly never used, that seeks a new home.

Why not Dakar,

Where the flame of a propane tank will sear a locally caught fish,

I can't wait to smell the delicious odor of fried fish

Mingling with the fresh breeze off the ocean. 

 

The Importance of Darkness

The stars can't reach me 

I curse the streetlights that flood the bedroom

My eyes never sleep

The agitation makes me hot, my feet reach

Towards the cold darkness

On the other side of the bed

I know the stars are shining there

My eyes sleep.

 

Love letters

I do love her

And

She loves unicorns.

They are everywhere in her life, temporary tattoos,

A tall stuffed unicorn at Nana's

She straddles it just barely this year.

Next year, she'll stand tall over her and will carry her around

As if a small suitcase, a support object for 

Challenges in life.

We all have them, these challenges, but when a letter arrives

In our mailbox,

They all temporarily fall away as LOVE

Tumbles out of the envelope as soon

As the beloved opens it. 

 

Happy birthday to me

 Happy birthday to me, a gift to remember him by, 

The man with the broad smile, the one with not too 

Long to live, that one, handsome at age 47, 

Yes, the one whose fingers weave thin strips of palm into 

Hearts, propelling me into his world of beaches in Nicaragua,  where an old man taught him this magic.

There is magic in his eyes that will soon cloud over as they look heavenward to his God.  

Breakfast bar in La Fortuna

Pico gallo and eggs for us,

Banana, oranges and seeds for them 

I'm wondering if I can look them up and add them to

My non-existent bird list, the one that exists only in my mind,

The one that will start when I retire, when I have time

And motivation to go out with Jeff, and learn about 

Birds.

Yes, the birds at the breakfast bar will seed my bird list,

The one that I will start as soon as I get home. 

I'll tell Jeff all about it and he will show me the way,

Will motivate me to get up early, to open my ears and bring the 

Binoculars to my eyes.  

He will teach me all about birds.  

Thank you in advance, Jeff.

 

The surprise on the other side

I was surprised by the blue flash, its iridescence on the other

Side of what was already beautiful

Why add more beauty, a different beauty when there was

Already enough of it, with its pattern of brown,

Yellow and grey whirls and swirls, why add an 

Iridescent blue that flashes like an intermittent

Lantern, leading me towards the woods, into an 

Unknown world, one where there may be dangers, 

But also joy, surely surprises, like blue on the 

Other side of what was already beautiful,

Finding time to be astonished. 

 

Feeling small

Next to this towering tree, I am so small,

My husband, taller than me, is so small, 

We are so small, the fires in Los Angeles rage over our heads 

We are all so powerless and yet we point our fingers at the other

The other small beings who too often choose small ideas and hurl

Them with their small angry hand, the one not clutching their billions

I reach down and stroke the smooth bark that stretches

Impossibly high into the canopy

The leaves up top are so high, they look down on me

And see how small I am, so distant. 

shimmering endlessly in the sky

Smiling upwards. 

What she left behind

She said, in her own, little sweet way

"I'll be back", to get my toothbrush.  

When she left, she swung her long hair over her shoulder,

But when she comes back her bangs will be short and she will look so much older

I saw that in her face, with the fires blazing behind her in the LA hills,

She had to grow up, leave her cozy little canopy bed and head

To a strange house an hour away.

She no doubt wondered where her pink tooth brush was

The one with the polka dots, the one she left at Mimi and Opa's house

The place she feels loved and safe, and 100%

Spoiled. 

 

Figuring out retirement

I'm wondering how to fill the days that stretch in front of me,

No longer calling for sophisticated analyses, or providing guidance for the young,

The page of life looks empty and unstructured, scary, white, ghostly

So I write

I plot, I ask ChatGPT to make me a life, of things I think I want to do, 

And then, I step aside, and I do my life and fill in the blanks of what I did

There is no correspondence, in fact, no foundational eureka moment of where I 

Will go in this life, only a page of "I thought" next to "I did", but this must

Tell me me something of what I want to do because,

 I did.