Painted Posts

posts, bollards on ships used to moor,
on streets to block traffic, black, caked with mud
and soot, worn by many years of ropes
sliding around the metallic circumference.
we painted these bollards the colors
of lollipops and rainbows, the artists
dressed in black, covering black
chains now sprayed in baby blue,
our faces once black from life
now sparkling with life.

Picking Cakes

so many choices in life,
some sweet, some bitter, some sour, but
cakes are sweet and wonderful;
one will come my way.
it's chocolate, or lemon, or peanut butter,
maybe carrot or butter or red velvet,
all wonderful, imagine a bite
melting in your mouth, its
sweetness filtering into your
open heart.

Girls Night Out

For a moment, I sat silently watching
my friends in conversation with one another,
having only met or met many times,
we formed this spiders web of connection.
a poet, a scientist, an entrepreneur, a dancer,
a healer, an artist, a linguist and other
beautiful souls celebrating with me.
I wonder at my good fortune
so thankful.

Late at night

a motorcycle roars down the street
I hear the high laughter of a college girl
I stare at words.
words that must say the most important
words that must convey in not too many.
it's late at night here, the moon is hiding
behind some clouds, the streetlamp
is busy lighting the garden across the way.
it's late, I stare at these words knowing
they must convey the power of
love.

Thoughts while meditating

I set the Meditation Timer for 10 minutes,
the first chime started at 10 seconds and I watched
my thoughts drift by, occasionally snagging on roots
before continuing along the stream of consciousness.
Oh, what a wonder of how many thoughts, how many
topics we cover in so few minutes, from weddings to
work, sister to Stephen, orbital debris to the nature of
obsession, summer to daughter, I ponder the productiveness
of such journeys, it opens my eyes to how hard it
is to be here
now.

Red Boat

the red boat holds the cloud's reflections
after a long rain, gusts that beat against
doorways and windows seeking entrance.
I'd sit in the silent water, buoyant and light
enough to reflect myself on this stark
landscape where hills disappear in the
distance enveloped in clouds.
the red boat will be drained on a sunny day
and the hillsides will stretch into the distance,
I wonder if I will see so clearly.

Tomato soup

they grew and ripened the two and  half weeks we were gone,

the tiny green ones now exploded, the large ones splitting at the seams.

it's time for Karen to come home and pluck them off the vines,

it's time for Stephen to slice and chop for tomato soup,

it's time for Jenny to eat tomatoes drenched in salad dressing for lunch.

it's time to eat tomatoes or give them away.

winter is coming, they will freeze on the vines

then we will miss their sweet taste on 

our tongues.