Snow!

Snow
really? yes it's time to bury tulips
they come every Spring only to be buried in white
how lovely, I gathered them this afternoon in high winds,
carefully arranging them in vases to place around the house,
otherwise their stems will be folded in two tomorrow
morning.
Snow, yes, to drench the parched soil, to germinate
peas and lettuce, kale and swiss chard, they need
moisture and heat, which will come the next
day.
Snow, the last hurrah, I will soundly sleep
as the flakes bury the sound of students leaving
the bars at 2 a.m., their footsteps and shouts
muffled in white.

Another kind of birthday suit

He arrived 27 years ago in his original birthday suit,
today I bought him another birthday suit for job interviews,
weddings, funerals, and other adult events, so grown-up
and so much the same the way we are all,
leaving behind childish things while still grabbing a hand
to rub his back, we argue the same as always and he's
right more than I care to admit, loving each other
over pad thai and birthday cake, wine and chips,
somehow I got so short and my hair is greying.
we remember when he got  his first bow tied and learned
how to tie it, now he ties his own tie, buys his own
shoes and socks, and goes home after cake to his own
home, holding the hand of his own beloved, and
S. and I climb into our pajamas, warm up a couple
of corn bags, fill a  couple little sniffers with cognac
and hit the hay after a good day of celebration.

Dusk through a screen

branches of
contrast, clarity
edges so clearly defined, limits
where the bark ends and air begins,
clouds and branches divided into a multitude
of squares, blue sky background, dusk, the
most lovely time, beauty in abundance,
a soft time, clouds softening to grey,
light blue to grey-blue, the
moon rises in the east, a breeze
blows, we rest our eyes
and souls.

Standing Tall while Trying not to Cry

they don't look like me and I don't like
their language, how they stand, how they lie.
I am surrounded by them, they stand in a
closed circle around me, their incomprehension
doesn't seem to faze them, they lay down
in it happily while I stand facing them
trying not to cry.
many of my people walk away from this
foreign land towards friendlier shores,
but I have never seen these beaches they
talk of, every beach I have walked has
the same stones that hurt my feet.

Grow where you can

maybe an unlikely place,
sprouting through the middle of a fungus
on a rock perched precariously on a hillside,
the small green fronds reach out for sun,
collecting small pools of water.
where else after all, bare rock offers no
nutrients, its tiny roots cannot compete
with the grass, fall leaves suffocate
each breath, so why not here, we each
must find that niche where we can grow.

en route

between places, from one embrace
to another, the warmth of her lingering breath
against my neck, a whispered good-bye
that follows me down the rainy street
towards a new destination, home.
I'm not there yet, sandwiched between
an elderly man on the way to visit grandchildren,
a college student on her way home.
we are en route, between, disconnected
but together in a metal box 35,000 feet
above the earth, we look down at clouds,
wondering if it is raining on those we left
behind.

Agh, it's 9:30 already?!

Agh, where did the evening go,
collecting mail, playing flute,
clothes that have traveled must
travel south to the washing machine.
The wind swept me back home,
but I'm not fully here yet, I still
want to hold her in my arms,
not yet ready to say good-bye.