Conjuring Posters

posters rise from piles of powerpoint slides
scattered across parquet floors, we partition
them into peculiar places, one on the upper right,
one below, then promptly play them out again,
over precious days better spent outdoors partaking
in nature, watching poppies sway in the wind,
we, such peculiar people, spend out time parked
at a kitchen table, or a picnic bench and ponder
the placement of photos and petite sketches
across the poster, pray for me!

Strummin' in Vail

lots of white people here
down home fiddle and guitar
singin' songs from Texas.
loud enough to cover the conversation
I am not having, quietly sitting over here
in this small table happily watching the crowds,
solitude such a special something
in a crowd
I just watch.

New Friends

she's so new that her name doesn't quite stick yet
but you love her smile, her words, her being so her,
so fresh, so fun, so smart.
new friends that you somehow stuff into a spot in your schedule
when someone else you love is away, he takes up so much time.
the old friends, the dear friends, the ones you have loved for so long
that their names show up in your dreams, and your words stumble
over each other in the confusion of happiness that you are so
lucky to have them wired hard into your neurons, you smile
in your sleep thinking of them, you feel their embrace when
times are hard.
new friends are like fireworks far up in the sky, you watch
the blue and yellow and red flares drift towards the uncertain
Earth.

The Most Dangerous Day: Bike to Work Day on the Creek Path

It's dangerous out there,
the new riders, blind curves, it's hot
and the sun shines in our eyes.
It's lovely out there, all the legs discovering
they can move bodies in a different way from
pressing the gas pedal.
I am wary on this route today, the inexperienced
mixed with the regulars, blind curves
I can't afford to hit my head again.
Bike to Work Day, wonderful
and oh so dangerous.

It's Late

It's late,
the windows are painted shut.
It's hot,
the windows are painted shut,
I can't open them, it's hot,
the fan blows hot air around the house,
the dog pants, I pant.
It's hot, it's dark, the raccoons are rustling
in the bushes, the squirrels are sleeping.
It's hot, let me break open the seals
and open these windows, turn on the
fan and cool this house
off.

25 and One Day

she's 25 and one day and she thought
the celebrations were over.
the earrings are put away, the chocolate has
been nibbled, she found a chain to hang the copper
gasket around her slender neck.
who would have thought we'd be
done celebrating twenty five years
of mother and daughter, through chubby cheeks
and pimples, Science Fair awards and Harvard,
cycling in France and drinking wine once she
was of age, and even before, making cookies
and eating them, discovering cool grains like
farro and barley, greens like kale and chard,
watching her build her skills at the perfect,
oh so complicated oatmeal.
who would have thought we'd be done
celebrating when every day is a chance to
celebrate that deep river of love
of mother and daughter.

Lightning, No Moon

we may have climbed the hill to watch the Moon
tonight, instead we stroll by graveyards, releasing
squirrels into the night in the company of lightning.
The strobe light catches the last view of the tail
disappearing behind a gravestone, may he rest in
peace this one, that chewed my drip lines and
savored my strawberries, that one that chattered
outside the window at me to come fill the bird
feeder for his personal use.
The Moon would have risen beautifully into the sky,
instead it feels creepy and the fur on the dogs neck
is standing up, we know there are others here
even if we can't see them, with the Moon
behind the clouds they can dance in front of
us and we cannot see except through a flash
of lighting.