Hello?
Hello?
Can you hear me?
It’s me, that is, you,
calling from the future –
not so distant but who’s counting
as we edge closer to forty –
to tell you:
Drink more water.
And please eat the cake.
Tell people you love them,
and share what you like.
Getting laughed at isn’t so bad.
Remember that time we forgot
that thing? Yeah, that really important thing?
Turns out, it wasn’t so important after all.
Funny how that happens.
I wish I could say
in sentences that make sense and feel complete
that I’m proud of us,
even though we often forget to eat.
(You should probably work on that.)
That we should sing more and worry less.
That it’s okay we can’t ride a bike.
(No, you still haven’t tried to learn.
No, you don’t really care.)
And your hair? Luxurious. Leave it.
(And say thank you for the compliment,
instead of just nodding your head, awkwardly.)
You’re not a mess.
At least, not any more than anyone else.
We’re all just out here,
pretending to know what we’re doing,
even after all these years.
So don’t let fear get in your way, okay?
Okay?
If I had more time…
Can you…
I’m losing…
…just one…thing
…
…
Poems
Three Spring Haiku
Each year I’ve waited
For the little frogs to peep
The first sign of spring
Birdsong all around
Morning dew in the meadow
Breathe a sigh of spring
Last night I saw them
The first of the year’s fireflies
Summer’s on the way
Home (A Poem)
I’ve built my house,
on a bed of dreams,
a million little hopeful timbers,
with nails made of joy and grief.
Life takes hold of us that way,
you know –
the sweet made sweeter
by bitter loss,
the loss made better by
the time that came before.
Funny, that I didn’t even realize,
how the building and building
never felt like a chore.
And now, my house moves
with me wherever I go,
but also stands
forever at a crossroads,
a perpetual choice between
this and that
or that or that.
And though it doesn’t matter,
I wonder:
How many lives have I
not chosen?
Good Morning, May Monday! (Thoughts, and a Poem)
It’s a new week, and a new month! I’ll have a short story out on Wednesday (April’s, just a little late), and in the meantime, I’m playing catch-up from our weekend with family (which was lovely and, as usual, too short). It’s looking to be a busy week, and you know, I’m really fine with that. I always feel like I have more energy and more determination in spring. It’s like watching the earth come alive again makes me feel more alive, too.
So, onward! And here’s a poem to get the week started. 😊 Happy creating, y’all!
************
Lady May (A Poem)
Crowned in flowers
and robed in sunshine,
Lady May walks now
from slope to valley,
forest to river
to field and pasture.
And in her dewy wake,
she lines them with color,
paints them green and blue
and pink and white,
bright yellow and regal lavender,
and leaves behind
the joy and hope of a world
come alive once more.
A Perfectly Good Reason (A Poem for the Cat People)
You see, I told the cat
that we have things to do today.
And what did he have to say?
Nothing, because he
is still fast asleep,
monopolizing my lap.
Priorities…
So, I suppose the work can wait.
After all, what’s a little
procrastinating
between feline and friend?
Reach (A Poem)
For whatever it is,
no matter how far,
keep going.
There’s more than enough
sky up there
for all your dreams
and then some.
I Am Somewhere Else (A Poem)
You’re talking to me,
I know,
and I sort of, mostly hear you.
See, I’m not quite here
(though not quite not) –
I’m somewhere else,
far away
right in front of you.
It’s not one place,
so I can’t tell you where,
or when,
or exactly how I came to be there.
Or even, truthfully,
when I might be back.
You’re frustrated,
I can tell,
but just consider this:
How wonderful to travel
without tickets
or borders
or worries about time and money
and a place to stay.
I’m lucky, I think.
Now…
…what did you say?
The Clock (A Poem)
How funny,
to race against
a stationary object,
as if time cares
about our projects
and our deadlines.
The clock ticks and tocks –
it does not see
or know
or participate
in the too-fast days
of our lives.
And really,
we build them that way,
don’t we?
We fight with the
never-ending turning of the globe,
like boxers in a celestial ring,
but the ring is empty,
save for us
and all of our to-do lists.
Wouldn’t it be nice,
then, to just stop –
not the clock,
but ourselves –
and insist on a slower pace?
And why don’t we?
I mean, seriously,
who ever made the rule
that busy is better?
I’d rather not be,
thank you.
I’m not mad, exactly,
but I do think this is bad.
See, the work will
truly
always
be here.
But I won’t.
Ready (A Poem)
All around, I hear it:
The hum of new life –
of growing things,
buzzing and flying,
a gentle flap of beating wings,
the stir of wind through the blossoms –
this song that each year nature sings.
It seems that here,
in a season and a blur,
no more than a blink,
we are suddenly,
all of us,
ready for spring.
Trivia Night (A Poem)
I mean, sure, of course
I want to win.
But, it’s just as fun to lose
when losing is still learning
and learning is knowing
and knowledge is power.
And when I think of
how much I know now
that I didn’t know before,
I’m happy that my hobby
is a trivial kind of pursuit.
A Virginia Writer's Diary 