A blueberry tart and some blueberry bread

It was the second time 

That I pulled out my phone, Apple Pay to be exact

In that crowded hall on some Island in Vancouver.

This time my companion was not timid about eating her share, 

No, "Oh, that's so nice of you but I've had enough", no

This woman wolfed down all that I left her, with enthusiasm

My hope to nibble the leftovers a bit later evaporated, 

And I wondered whether my previous companion, with all her politeness

Was the better to travel with so that I could gorge myself,

Or this one here, who unabashedly took her place in the world

Claiming all her rights to eat the rest of the 

Blueberry delights.  

 

The glass dome with the trees inside

 

Through the raindrops

I could see trees, the green canopy brushing

Against the glass dome above and I wondered

Were there monkeys inside, bounding from limb to limb

Or was there a sleek black panther winding amongst the trunks

But as I approached the door, I saw men in black ties

And women in gowns, holding their cocktails.

They were all white people and then I noticed 

A man standing in the rain, bent over 

As if to create his own dome of safety

From the stares of those of us who

Have decent rain gear and who are just passing

By on our way to somewhere else, 

Dry and safe.

We are all called to be Mothers

I called her the Duchess as a baby, 

She somehow conveyed that the service was sub-par

And decided to take things in hand, eventually towering over me

In all ways, it seems.

And now she is a Mother, and her babies will demand every bit 

As much, as children do.

We are called to  be Mothers in this world, so many tears

 To dry, so many flowers to plant, so much loving is needed,

Especially in these times when a chainsaw is celebrated as the 

Solution to human problems.

Be a Mother today.

MIT Graduation - the only one who showed up

He's the only one who showed up,

To show respect for Herculean tasks undertaken,

Accomplishment in less than four years,

That's what no money does - you hurry up.

The teeming crowds of families, not only the 

Fathers and mothers, but the uncles, aunts and cousins,

All milling around on campus, the parties, the

Hugs and congratulations.

He was the only one who showed up, this brother,

While the Mother and Father had better things to do

Than celebrate a daughter's graduation from MIT,

Maybe because they never gave a single penny,

Their skin was never in the game.  

In the end, it is they who lost in 

This Precious life. 

 

The durability of a delicate husk

I spotted the glimmer of the tomatillo husk amidst the creeping bellflowers,

having survived the bruising winter, crushed by snow,

Pelted by hail and rain, the delicate skeleton hull of the tomatillo endures, sparkling

In the sun, having only opened so far as to let slip the lucious 

Fruit onto the ground, no doubt its seeds waiting patiently to

Spring forth new life