the bombings in Iran—

ultimately, a good thing

or just the beginning

of unfolding reprisals?

safflower seeds scatter

wedge themselves between the cracks

my inarticulate mind

the longest day begins

thunder, rain & spears of light

from an angry, impatient sky

writer writes

poet poets

and every lover loves

they’re calling for rain today,

this craptastic Wednesday,

but I see opportunity—

poetry, a good book, baking bread,

sourdough starter, perhaps—

a stunning extravaganza

of daydreaming quality time

perfectly, uniquely just for me

6:05 am,

timestamp

for when

I became Mother.

today, I celebrate

my son’s entrance

into the world,

one never again

to be the same,

not since his raucous

debut on this planet!

an empty house

bereft of seed

cardinals & finches

plunder the earth

for what they might find

beneath the feeder

swaying wildly

in the breeze

weary & depleted,

she pauses, ever so briefly,

in her deliberations