Waiting for the Bus

I leaned against the signpost waiting
for the bus to take me to work.
Two buses went by in quick
succession, the wrong way.
One must be running late, sure
to turn around at the bus depot
and head back.
It’s only 5 blocks away.
Twenty minutes later, a bus
appeared and I boarded,
frustrated with the delay.
I paced around the signpost waiting
for the bus to take me home after
seeing one go by when I
was a block away.
Twenty minutes later a bus
arrived and I boarded,
frustrated with the delay.
I went to pick up my boyfriend’s
car for him, but it wasn’t
ready yet, so I walked home.
I was frustrated with the delay.
I spent 50 minutes basking
in warm sunshine
waiting for buses and cars.
I have no reason to be frustrated
with the delay.

Picture courtesy of http://flickr.com/photos/vasta/16680364/

A Story of K.

Mother would have attended
her daughter, K.'s, graduation ceremony
but she was getting married
again.
She and husband number five couldn’t
wait another day or two
to celebrate their
holy matrimony,
sure to last a year
or two .
So daughter number three
put on her graduation gown,
combed her hair, carefully
positioning a ribbon with her
school color.
she marched in a long
row lead by accomplished
scholars, the future
leaders of America
while her own mother
cried at her wedding
as if it were the first.

It's Dark Out There

it's dark out there
and no one can see their way.
from one day to the next
your badge may not
open the door anymore,
your key may not work
in the lock.
everyone is afraid,
the man next door,
the co-worker across the
hall.
today we are blinded
by the sun on the new snow,
a fresh beauty that knows
no darkness.

Costa Rican Fence Posts

Costa Rican Fence Posts

pity the countless majestic
chestnut trees cut to the ground,
stripped of all branches
and foliage, their lives
taken, to become
mere telephone or
fence posts.
A pity, when all
that is needed
is a row of greenery
along a country
road.

Daily poetry is back...pictures will start again soon, too! ; )

Historic Boulder House Tours

I thought I was taking a tour
of historic homes in Boulder,
not a tour of the thousands
of square footage of modern
additions and renovations.
I was wrong, the hordes of
middle aged women stormed
the place, small groups gathered
in awestruck silence in gargantuan
walk in closets and bathrooms.
My eye wandered to the decorative
window latches, the worn oak floors,
the now defunct hot water
tank in the closet, the pictures
of the house when it was first
built. These old houses are
wrapped in tinsel and cellophane
and I peek under the wrapping
when no one is looking to see
the real present inside

Horseback riding in Costa Rica

Maybe he warned me in Spanish.
I did not knowingly sign up
to ride a horse down to that
river, the one I could see by
looking straight down, past
herds of back and white cows
perched on narrow terraces
of trampled grass.
Not sure whether to close
my eyes and pray for salvation
from whatever evil I had done
to land here in this moment
on this saddle, or keep my
eyes open to see the view when
I fell off the cliff and died a tragic death.
I called to the guide
telling him I was afraid
and he laughed a big
Costa Rican laugh.
We made it to the river,
traversing cliffs, squeezing
through dense forest on
muddy narrow trails.
We celebrated swimming
below a raging waterfall
and eating fresh pineapple.
My horse and I led the
way back, prancing and
trotting, our guide laughing
that big Costa Rican laugh.

Swimming in Costa Rica

I went swimming in the rain
this morning
after walking through a
torrential downpour
by the beach
I would have immersed
myself in the sea
but swimming here
is not for the timid
or foolhardy;
signs posted every
100 meters:
Currientes peligrosas.
I walk back to the hotel
in the rain, don my
swimsuit and swim
laps in the hotel
pool

in the
rain.