Posted in Uncategorized, tagged heart, love, mandolin, music, poem, poetry, practice on August 9, 2018| 4 Comments »
In my heart, a mandolin
just waiting to be played—
there are music sheets,
ignore them. Doesn’t matter
if you know how to play.
What matters is you try.
What matters is you practice
tuning the strings
until you find the way
to make them sing.
What matters is that
we both know there’s
music in there just waiting
to be found and
your hands are curious,
tender.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged drought, inner resources, poem, poetry, pond on August 9, 2018| 2 Comments »
in the relentless drought,
finding inside me
a pond somehow still present,
an unstoppable,
insistent spring
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged daughter, mother, parenting, poem, poetry, present moment, recipe on August 7, 2018| 4 Comments »
Mom, just relax. Let me take you to a place where there are no bunions, no bruises, no violence, no Donald Trumps, no unhappy thoughts.
—Vivian Trommer, 10
Start with the scent of chanterelle cream sauce
still lingering from dinner. Throw in a few stars—
you can’t see them, but you know they are there.
Add a tickle. A giggle. A kitten-ish squeal.
Rub tenderly. Then hard. Then forget for a while
to rub. Add a hum, and the dark that can’t enter
the room. Add moon. And cocoon. An impending
soon. And the sound of the river never ending.
An inkling of joy. A hunch of perfect. A hint
of this can’t last. Choose that. Distill to precisely
this moment. Any sorrow or pain
that might wish to rise, it is only a background
flavor that shows up how sweet this magic,
how sometimes the best recipe is the one
that uses exactly what we have on hand.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged love, parenting, poem, poetry, thirst on August 6, 2018| Leave a Comment »
Like every other day, today
it is apparent that only love
will save us. Not in the grandiose
abstract way, but in the alarming
specific way. As in forgiveness, now.
As in choosing to hug instead
of fighting back. As in taking
three deep breaths before saying
something we regret. It saves us
from thirsting in the desert of our lives,
but only if we save it first by
choosing it, now in this moment
of angry words, now in this moment
of clenched thoughts, now in
this moment when we’d rather
taste venom but instead, we
pour love into our cup and
bring it to our lips and drink
and drink until once again
it is only love that makes sense,
only love that refills the cup.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged awakening, geese, poem, poetry on August 5, 2018| Leave a Comment »
waking to the strangled song
of geese, they insist
now is no time to be asleep
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged poem, poetry, time on August 5, 2018| 1 Comment »
taking the calendar
from the wall, the days
grow feet and run away
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged challenge, path, poem, poetry, rain on August 3, 2018| 2 Comments »
And let there be rain,
though the path is easier
when dry, and let there be
a bend in the road.
Let us think we know
where we are going—
and let us be wrong.
There are wings in us
we’ve forgotten.
Let us walk until
we remember them.
And then, let us walk
for the joy of walking.
Because puddles.
Because the path.
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged mother, parenting, poem, poetry, rain, teenage on August 3, 2018| Leave a Comment »
as if sweet talk
or threats might make
the rain fall up
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged camp, daughter, horse, mother, poem, poetry on August 1, 2018| Leave a Comment »
She is across the mesa,
learning to saddle up, mount up
and post the trot.
It’s what we don’t know
that frightens us.
For a time, there is
the death grip. For a time,
there’s forgetting to breathe.
But soon there’s the thrill
of learning to move
with another, the joy
of breathing in rhythm
with the stride.
I follow the skyline
to where she is,
wonder what planet
I’m using to triangulate
my wishes good night.
I, too, am learning
to hold on more loosely,
to breathe into these
new rhythms, chin up,
eyes on where we’re going,
a smile insisting on itself.