a friend dares us to do the air step
we can make it a winter project, she says
Iām sixty-nine; coordination, never my forte
but Iām game I tell her
*
Iām game
Saturday shuffle
rearranging
the art on our walls,
Iām enthralled
with each new
perspective
simile, like, becomes unraveled
the rest of the garden is starting to fade but my dahlia’s are still going strong!
triplicate
bolts of thunder
sweetly maligning
the ruin of song
Mariah
a silent wood
calls out to her.
eagerly,
she responds
in kind.
When Did It Happen?
~ written, with much admiration, after Mary Oliver
When did it happen?
āLong before I knew something like this could ever transpire.ā
*
Where did it happen?
āIn a forgotten place where soft-shell clams gather at dawn.ā
*
No, tell. Where did it happen?
āWhere the sound of the sea rushes in to the wild chambers of the heart.ā
*
What is your heart doing now?
āOh, child. It longs so for you.ā
municipal swimming pool, early 70ās
those wilding summers
of freedom in the sun
plastic swim caps,
wire-frame baskets
pool checks
the top of every hour
that glorious smell of chlorine,
those diamond-blue waters
haiku
welcome, savior clouds,
respite from summerās stifling heat
today, a semblance of rest
bucket list
if Iād had the legs,
I would run to you
and never once falter
in my stride.
*
had I wings to span the heavens,
I would fly across oceans
and over every mountain
just to hover above
the very hairs on your head.
*
every breath, every good thought ā
were I to mechanize
the ferocity of my heart ā
Iād pour it out, every last bit of it
over the sundry sands of an eternity,
so I might love you again
just one more time.
A Sawyer's Daughter 
Chit Chat