driving white knuckled
in the blizzard, meanwhile
a white camellia blooms
Posts Tagged ‘snow’
One Simultaneous
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged poem, poetry, snow, time on December 9, 2019| Leave a Comment »
Forty Years Later, The Snow
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged earth, poem, poetry, snow, winter on December 1, 2019| Leave a Comment »
When we were nine, we’d build
elaborate cities of snow
in the fifteen minutes before
the wail of the recess bell.
The boys would outwait us,
and as soon as we’d run
toward the school, they’d
knock our snow realm to the ground.
What is it in us that loves
to create? To build worlds?
To imagine a life taking shape?
And what is it, equally human, that
thrills in seeing it all fall down?
This morning, without me
lifting a finger, the world
remade itself in snow—
everything softer now,
smoothed and linked,
a unified kingdom of sparkle,
crystal and shine.
And once again, I am nine,
the winter grand. And once again, I long
to protect it, this beautiful world,
want to give it my imagination, my hands.
A Small Bouquet from Grand Staircase-Escalante and Salida
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged desert, poem, poetry, snow, travel on October 28, 2019| 2 Comments »
Hi friends, I was off camping in the desert for a few days, then travelled to the glorious little town of Salida for a reading, and finally back home … here are a few small poems from the last few days …
hell’s backbone grill—
the mouth begins to thrill
from two-hundred ten miles away
*
in the slot canyon—
knowing myself as water
moving through these walls
*
wind storm in the desert—
even my thoughts
fill with sand
*
this revolving door—
certainty, uncertainty, certainty
uncertainty
*
she sweeps the leaves
from the walk—
red carpet in reverse
*
waking in a blizzard
while in my ears, my scalp
still red sand
The Blizzard Reminds Me
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged letting go, parenting, poem, snow, spruce, tree on March 21, 2019| Leave a Comment »
The way the spruce tree
holds the wet snow—how
in a blizzard its branches
will bend and bend
and bend until they release—
that is the way I want to love you,
want to trust that I can hold
the weight of you as you fall,
as you continue to fall,
hold you until it seems I will break
and then, just when I’m sure
I can’t take any more,
release you back into yourself—
not in anger, not in fear,
not with guilt—release you
with green resilience
so that come the next storm
I am prepared
to catch you again, again,
and let you go.
One with a Cup of Coffee
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged poem, poetry, shoveling, snow on March 10, 2019| 2 Comments »
Riding the Chairlift
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged daughter, mother, poem, poetry, pretend, skiing, snow on March 3, 2019| Leave a Comment »
By then, the blizzard was strong enough
that we couldn’t see past the chair in front of us—
all was white oblivion. And though I knew
the world, though obscured, was still there,
part of me trusted the illusion.
It reminded me of when we were kids
and at slumber parties we’d play the game
“stiff as a board, light as a feather,” in which
one girl would lie in the center of a circle,
and another would tell the spooky story
of how the supine girl had died, and how, on her death,
her body was said to be “stiff as a board, light
as a feather,” and the rest of us would slip two fingers
beneath her and carry her about the room.
I knew, of course, that my 100-pound friends
were not truly feather light, but we played the game
over and over and swore it was true. There is some thrill
in sharing a myth that defies common sense.
And so today, when I say to my daughter
that we are entering a hidden realm through a veil
and she disagrees, I am shocked how disappointed
I am when she doesn’t share the game. In that instant,
the snow is just snow, the day just a day.
There is a joy here, too, in calling things as they are.
A woman. A girl. A storm. A chairlift traveling through.
One Growing Clarity
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged clarity, poem, poetry, snow, thoughts, winter on February 25, 2019| Leave a Comment »
Awake at Midnight
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged communion, moon, poem, poetry, shoveling, snow, winter on February 20, 2019| Leave a Comment »
The snow was light and the moon was near full,
and the shovels skated across the drive.
The rest of the world was asleep
except for the shoveler and her shovels and the moon.
The snow was light and her thoughts were quiet,
quiet like leafless cottonwood trees
with branches that tangled with the forward moon.
There are nights when though we are alone
we are not alone,
nights when the darkness doesn’t seem so dark,
nights when our work feels not like work
and we step out of our homes, then out of ourselves,
and we are somehow unsurprised
by the way everything shines.
One Friendship
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged friendship, poem, poetry, skiing, snow on February 16, 2019| Leave a Comment »
for Corinne
skiing into the blizzard
finding laughter in gusts and drifts
skiing out into sunshine
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