Going out for a movie in the cold and dark

I didn't want to go, riding my bike the short distance to the theatre,

The cold freezing my exposed cheeks, the snow sparkling on the sidewalks,

Asking myself why I made this mistake again to go out in the evening, on my own,

In the dark and the cold when I just want to stay home.

Until.

Until the screen lit up and there were bees and butterflies flitting about,

Men and women were talking to me, the reluctant gardener, about the importance

Of protecting our insects, the little ones that rule the world.

My anger rose hearing that their populations are down 50, 75% in the last decades,

Then fading into awe and wonder at how beautiful are the eyes of a fly.

I love the previews, where I saw an image of my neighbor, Loren, then a teenager,

Protesting for the rights of Blacks to enjoy Glen Echo Park.

These days he walks slowly through our neighborhood, and I wonder if 

His mind wanders back into those heady days of action.

Action, it is!  I am called, this freezing cold and dark night, to commit

To the pollinators, even in the face of drought and heat.

I'll remember the cold on my cheeks, and the memory will firm my

Resolve.

 

What if

What if everyone woke up to this sunrise

And for a moment, their anger dropped away and they stood

Moonstruck in awe

And what if everyone walked, Moonstruck, downstairs 

In their plaid pajamas with a smile on their face, a kiss

On their lips, looking for the cheek of their loved ones,

And what if someone was awoken by the gentle touch of a kiss

On their cheek and in their surprise, they had a moment of grace,

Of freedom from anger and care, a moment that stretched

Into the day.

What if you were the person who woke to that sunrise, who delivered

That kiss, what if you were the one who recognized 

That we are all made of star dust, how amazing would

That be. 

I am amazed. 

(Ocean Vuong - thank you for that quote.)

 

A picture looking for a poem

We're looking for a poem tonight, one that rhymes with happiness.

He's looking in the same direction as me, on this cold Boulder night,

But we did not find it right away.

Poems are slippery things, unwilling to settle into black and white type,

They don't always want to be written, and we had been reading a story in French,

The wrong language was bouncing in our minds that chilly evening,

And the plot of the story was silly, we agreed on that.

I'm looking for a poem tonight and it's getting late, the baby is sleeping 

And the stars are gazing down at me, waiting for illumination.

I turned to them, reminding them that starlight is their job,

The dog is no help either, her grizzled snout quietly rocking as she snores.

There is no poem tonight for celebration, not even one that rhymes with 

Happiness.

It appears from nowhere.  

 

A model of Peace, gratitude and (not) humility, my words for 2026

Even when snow is on the ground, and the cold stings, she's smiling

I'm thinking it's gratitude for the freedom to do what she wants, regardless of

Parents who may think it's way too cold to be outside this morning in a princess dress

A Short sweater, unbuttoned, walking the old dog, slowly, along icy sidewalks.

There's no anguish in her eyes, no worries for tomorrow, just the peace of being in 

This moment, this cold morning, in the dress she has worn continuously since her 

Opa bought it for her...how many days ago?

Yet I do not find humility in this bundle of energy and confidence, not in this one who claims

To know it all already, from skiing to sewing,

Perhaps it's best to step into the world with confidence, stumble and fall, only to find yourself

Up again on stronger ground, ready to learn what is right in front of you.