Oregon eclipse 2017

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Grey Bed Sheets

I close my eyes and see
my mother at my age, two
girls following close behind,
her with dark long lovely hair
and tired eyes.

There are a million small questions
that may not have a true or clear or
simple answer.

My sleep deprived brain
has to be reminded to
not wait for clarity –
just do
move
act,
the rest will come

later.

It is near but not yet daybreak.
I open the front door and walk
out into the dark. Tree frogs
hop wildly out of my way
as they too apparently
ventured out into
the damp night.

The simple is sacred
I see so clearly in the
quiet of the early morning
alone with my baby daughter.

We are as we should be
sleepy and smiling
together atop
grey bed sheets.

Soon to be published in Switch (The Difference) Anthology by Kind of a Hurricane Press

Without Supper or Understanding

As a child of perhaps 5,
before I knew what a
cliché or a lie was,

my best friend and I
hopped over my backyard fence
to follow the trail of a rainbow which
was clearly landing nearby.

We followed and followed,
but it continued to get away from us.

Eventually a nice woman stopped us
and called my mother.

We both went to sleep that night
without supper or much understanding
of the days events.

sweeter

On some nights
all things feel like
they have been
done before.

Tonight, if you listen closely
you can hear the night sky
breaking apart
as all young and beautiful
things do.

The apples
on the tree
taste sweeter
this year.
I know you have waited patiently
but that does not speed
my coming. I hear in my head
on the nights that I am quiet.
I cannot keep on like this.

The world is upside down.

I think he’s building a sandcastle
He says to me slyly
of our cat jumping
maniacally at the wall.

I smile, but do not feel it
too quick to anger,
out of control
and ever changing.

I comfort myself with minutia,
lists and a false sense of control.

You can curse
the weather man
but you cannot
change his
predicting.